


Each Other

by charlotteof_denmark



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dubious Consent, Eating, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 32,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteof_denmark/pseuds/charlotteof_denmark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana and Hannibal start their relationship smoothly. But slowly, very slowly, it darkens, and Alana discovers a part of Hannibal that she never wanted to see. They can only learn so much and live.</p><p>30 day Hannibloom; I write a chapter every day for 1 month!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ravage me

30 days of hannibloom! DAY 1

_______

Ravage you

A hannibloom fanfiction

 

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted her. Throughout the day, he got more and more restless about it. Sometimes, at work, they spent the day together. They knew the day before, so Alana slept over at Hannibal's, he made her lunch while she was still sleeping and got ready himself. His alarm was always at 6:30. Hers was at 8:00. They left around 9:30. She wondered how he functioned with almost no sleep. He didn't even drink allot of coffee, so he had to get his energy somewhere. 

Alana was so independent, almost lonely. They sometimes worked together when a crime occurred, but she was always on her own side, thinking, not letting anyone in her head. Her eyes constantly narrowing while writing down, biting her lip, walking away as her hips swayed. It almost tormented him. But he got his mind off her, mostly talking to Jack.

In the afternoon it became harder. Hannibal often saw his personal patients, leaving the FBI headquarters before Dr. Bloom. The thought of her assailed him, almost in an abusive way. But he focused on his sessions. The clock ticked, ticked, ticked.  
He knew her sweet tooth. She enjoyed maple, chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla, orange blossom and most fruits. That afternoon he made a dragon fruit sherbet with pineapples. He asked her a few days before if she liked dragon fruit and she said she had no idea what it even was. How he loved showing her new things. 

He went to pick her up, almost like a father. Some of the agents joked and called him papa-Lecter, as if he couldn't hear them. Alana rolled her eyes at them. 

After she'd eaten her snack, told him how wonderful it was and went on her computer to check her emails, Hannibal started cooking again. She found that he would give himself a back pain with all that standing and walking. But didn't say a word.

They ate dinner, Alana took a bath, Hannibal took a shower. Alana was always long, so when Hannibal was done, he washed her feet. They were always soft and clean after each bath.   
Both of them were self-conscious people. They liked to take care of themselves. Every morning, he would shave and she would do her makeup. Even if he got up earlier, he waited after her.   
After the bath Alana got in her robe and sat on the chair close to Hannibal who was combing his hair and applying lotion to his face. He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt and gray pants.

''You know what?'' she asked, in a matter of speech that he'd never use.

''What?'' he said, frowning.

''Sometimes, I daydream of a man who would grab me by the waist and ravage me, destroying me bit by bit.''

He stopped moving and looked at her through the mirror. She was perfect like this. Her hair wet and messy, but smelling like lavender and her soft pale skin smelling like nicotiana. She crossed her arms, frowning her eyebrows and smiling. She propped a foot upon the bathroom counter top. Hannibal placed his lotion back to where it belonged, being fastidious as always. He turned around.

Hannibal took her ankle in his hand and rubbed the skin. ''Ravaging you?'' he asked.

''Yes.''

He let go of her ankle and came closer, cupping her jaw. ''Are you sure?''

She nodded, and for a moment, she looked like a child. 

''Get up,'' he ordered.

She got up, quickly and pushed the chair away. Before she had the time to look at him, he took her waist, pressing her against him for her to feel his arousal. He kissed her forcefully, biting her lip and pushing his tongue in. He grabbed her bottom as she groaned.

Before she had the time to think he brought her to the bedroom, pushed her on the mattress and continued kissing her hard. His hands moved so fast that she couldn't even start to place hers. Her heart was beating so hard, it was the only thing she heard.

Hannibal trailed his mouth to her jaw, passing by her ear, giving it a nice nibble, breathing there, and she laughed. He knew it would tickle her. They changed places, she turned him around, catching her breath and straddled his lap. She ground herself against him and he moaned. He sat up to take off her bathrobe and cup her breasts, licking and biting them, devouring them. 

''Hannibal,'' she breathed. Her hands traveled to his humid hair and she pressed him to her. He squeezed her left breast as he created bruises of biting on the right one.

''Is pain pleasure, my dear Alana?'' he questioned, lifting his head.

In the light, he saw her glorious body, while she nodded. She'd never done this with him.

''Please.'' it was only a whisper.

He touched her, there, between her thighs, as she squealed of delectation. He was torturing her, being too gentle. So she took his hand and made him touch her like she would. He nuzzled the crook of her neck. She continued to hump his hand, and eventually tried to make him touch the place where she wanted his fingers most, but he refused.

''All good things to those who wait Alana,'' he groaned against her neck and started nipping her. They were hard and sharp, and it made her bleed a little bit. She closed her eyes.

Her arms went around his neck. Hannibal lay down on the pillow behind him and she lay on his chest. He lifted her ass a little bit to take his trousers off and then his shirt. His erection pushed against her wet cunt. She tried to take him inside her but he stopped her. He violently pushed her back as she gasped. She looked at him, his hair just the way she loved it, messy on his forehead, but it bothered him, so he pushed it away. He lowered himself, licking his way from a peck on her lips, to her chin, to her neck and collar bone, her nipples, her stomach, her thighs. Alana made a sound of complaint, but he hushed her. She sat up, not all the way, just to be able to see him. He took the skin of her white thighs between his teeth and pulled, bit, sucked, until she was sore. She screamed every time, her insides aching for him. When he knew she couldn't take the paint anymore, he lapped one short swish of his tongue against her lips and she spasmed against him, wanting more. He proceeded to eat her out, kissing her every way possible. He reached for her chest and pushed her down. He left his palm there and she held it. He continued darting his tongue inside her, breathing on her. After a moment, she spoke.

''Hannibal, stop... Please... I want you now...''

She hadn't came yet. ''As you wish.''

He went on his knees, placing the head of his cock on her entrance and pushed himself in, holding on to her hips. He did not go gently, and fucked her convulsively like an animal. She kept panting in distress and lust as her eyes rolled back into her head. It could have been too much wine. Her panting then became cries. He couldn't take the lack of contact in that moment and pulled her to him for her to sit on his cock. He put his arms around her, as if he was trying to be a part of her. She hugged back putting her arms around his neck, and then he could really hear her moans. She was delirious.   
He pounded into her as hard as her could and took her ass in one of her hands to help her thrust herself. He knew it hurt, but knew she loved it. She loved him. 

If he lowered his eyes, he saw spots of blood on her neck. The cuts he had made. She was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted or laid eyes on. 

For the few last minutes, his movement slowed down and she became tight around him. ''Alana...Alana... Mano meilė...'' he said in Lithuanian. ''Mano meilė... dainuoti man.'' She knew what it meant. He said it almost every time. When he spoke his native tongue, it meant that she was doing a good job. 

Her orgasm was loud as always, first very silent but then she yelled and fucked herself on him one last time, coming with him. She was so very tired. He knew. He kissed her softly while he was still in her, on his lap.

''Hannibal. I thought I was going to die,'' she told him in a monotone voice. He spaced her face away from him and smiled, cupping her cheek. He lay her down on the cover of the bed carefully. She trembled, naked, bruised, cold, ravaged. She looked at him. He got up and dressed back in his pajama before climbing under the blankets. He invited her in. She always slept naked. 

Hannibal didn't turn the lights off yet. He needed to see her. Just staring. Alana hated being touched after making love, so he needed to content himself. She grinned at him. ''Thank you.''

''The pleasure was mine,'' he answered.

In the night, he dreamed of taking her to Lithuania.


	2. Hug you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all :)

Day 2 of 30 days of hannibloom!

 

__________________________

 

 

Hannibal had not heard of Alana for a week now. They never texted or sent each other emails. Sometimes Alana left him notes but it was only if she wanted to say thank you for something or ask him for something. Dr. Bloom was often on her phone and the internet. But Dr. Lecter was old-fashioned. So they kept it that way.   
Hannibal called her the day Will came for his therapy session. She didn’t answer. He didn’t phone her for when Will almost killed him. He didn’t want her to worry.

But he was slightly worried.

Only slightly.

A bit more than usual.

He never worried about anyone. He said he did. People worry unnecessarily. What good does it do to be anxious about a person? Caring about anyone was just the same. When he was younger he didn’t understand why he should care about anyone because the ones he cared for the most died. His father, his mother, his sister Mischa. But caring was inevitable and sometimes it wasn’t in one’s control. You love, you care. Caring about wine was different. But Alana Bloom was like a very, very fine wine. So of course, he drove through town, thinking of her. He thought maybe she needed some alone time after what happened to Chilton. She was never very fond of Chilton, everyone knew that, he was sexist, and always criticized her for being a woman. Even in front of Hannibal. How bold of him.

But no. After the shooting, Alana drank copious amounts of beer with him and cried a little bit. She seemed okay after. But he hadn’t seen her since then.

He parked himself in front of her house. A nice place, a bit far off from other houses, but not enough to look antisocial. He walked to her porch. She was already there. He smiled to himself. Her hair was a bit messy, not carefully curled like it was usually. Her coat was half on. She looked like she knew he was there but didn’t acknowledge him. When Hannibal was close enough, he went to pet her hair but she moved.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she snapped. ‘Please.’

He removed his hand carefully. ‘What seems to be the problem Dr. Bloom?’

He sat next to her on the staircase.

‘I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. I don’t even know.’ She took a small box out of her pocket. ‘I started smoking.’ She slipped one between her teeth and lit it with a lighter.

‘Have you smoked before?’

‘When I was seventeen.’

He nodded. ‘What happened when you were seventeen?’

She turned to look at him, finally. ‘I almost died in a car accident.’ Smoke came out of her mouth.

‘And what’s happening now?’

‘It’s Will,’ she told him. ‘He still comes to the FBI sometimes. He said he was continuing his therapies with you.’ She took the cigarette in her hand. ‘It’s true isn’t it?’

‘Does Will ever lie?’

‘He said you were the Chesapeake Ripper.’

‘No. That’s not lying... that was him comforting himself. Reminding himself that he wasn’t the Ripper.’

She put the cigarette back into her mouth, crossing her arms.

‘Are you scared of Will?’

She took the cigarette back. ‘I’m scared he might hurt someone without knowing, I’m scared he might hurt you, I’m scared he isn’t able to cope with being alone without anyone watching over him constantly. I’m worried about him.’

Hannibal turned his body to face her. ‘Alana Bloom,’ he started. ‘The most humane, the sanest, the most stable person I know. You said to me once that I shouldn’t be my own psychiatrist. Don’t do that mistake. Let me.’

Hannibal gently took the cigarette from her lips and pressed it down in a small pot next to her full of cigarette butts. His arms went to her shoulders. She was tense. He brought her closer, with a firm grip. She let herself sink into him. It wasn’t a very comfortable position so he made them both stand up.   
They stood there. He kept his arms around her frail shoulders.

‘Hug me,’ he said.

She snaked her arms under his open jacket, feeling the soft material of the sweater he was wearing. She rubbed her cheek against his chest.

 **  
**Alana felt content. It was what she needed right now.


	3. Kiss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana likes to kiss Hannibal.  
> Hannibal likes kissing Alana.  
> They like each other and nothing hurts.

After the encounter on the staircase, Alana invited Hannibal inside. He accepted kindly and when she opened the door, Applesauce greeted him by sniffing his hand, recognizing him.

‘I never thought you were a dog person.’ He scratched her ear for a moment. Alana was already heading to the kitchen and left her coat on a hanger, carelessly.

‘Me neither,’ she called from the other side of the house. Hannibal hung his coat next to hers and removed his boots. ‘We sort of adopted each other.’

He walked to the kitchen, passing by the living-room and the dining room. She was wearing a salmon colored tunic with black leggings. He found her legs looking too thin, but always found her lovely. She was pouring chocolates on a plate, her favorite kind, Teuschers, from Switzerland.

‘Will you get the wine from the fridge?’ she asked.

He walked behind her, touching the small of her back as he passed, not to bump into her. She shivered nicely at his touch.   
He looked into her fridge, saw many vegetables and fruits, barely any meat, juice, almond milk, some leftovers in glass containers, a few bottles of beer and finally the wine. It was from Spain.

Alana was almost as picky and pretentious about food and drinks as he was. But she ate out often, in opposition to him.

She got a corkscrew out of the nearest drawer, handed it to him and got the wine glasses. Everything was done with barely any words. Their chemistry was so big that they seemed to comprehend each other extremely well. He knew what she wanted. She knew what he wanted. His wishes were her command. Of course, hers were too.

They walked to the living room soundlessly and sat. She served her glass and she sipped it before propping it on the coffee table. She then took a chocolate.

Always a sweet tooth.

‘A month and a half ago we had sex for the first time. Happy anniversary.’ She raised her glass to him. He did the same with a small laugh. She could see his teeth. God, those teeth.

She sat diagonally, leaning on her back into the couch. He sat straight, a bit diagonally so they’d be face to face, but relaxed himself into the cushion. She lifted her left foot and rested it in his lap. He loved her feet.

The dog went to Alana’s room, maybe to sleep.

‘I sometimes wonder,’ she sputtered, ‘I mean, I always wonder. What is this?’

‘Cordoníu, from Spain,’ he said, showing her his glass.

She smiled, taking another chocolate. ‘I meant, what is this we have?’

He caressed her foot carefully. ‘It’s whatever you need it to be.’

She shut her eyes, trying to taste the chocolate as much as possible. If she had to choose between sex and chocolate, she would choose chocolate. If she had to choose between sex with Dr. Hannibal Lecter and chocolate... She would need to think for a long time.

‘What about what you need, Hannibal?’ she said, faintly.

He swallowed. ‘I need moments like these. They are like a candle in the dark. A light in my life.’

She thought about that, internally agreeing. She translated it and analyzed what he had said in her head and realized that he was saying that she was his light.

With a serious glare, she sat up, slipped her foot off him and sat on her knees, placing her hands on her thighs. He scrutinized her remaining in his position. The incredible morpho blue of her irises, the darkness of her hair falling on her shoulders in loose locks, the hollow at the base of her throat, the tiny marks where he made her bleed on her neck. The pleasure of looking at her was enough.

Hannibal sat up. Being much taller than her, he was at her level, even her being on her knees. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He kissed her cheek lovingly before pressing his forehead to her’s. He placed one of his hands behind her head.

 _How can someone everyone calls a monster be this tender?_ she thought.

He pressed her lips to hers, as they moved, again and again. She tasted like the fine chocolate she'd been eating. A hint of caramel and salt. He tasted like pure wine. He tasted like wine every night she kissed him.

His mouth was warm and wet, it captivated her, it sent shocks down her spine. His taste was delicious, she could do this forever.

At first it was chaste and light, but Alana opened her mouth to him and he entered his tongue. He licked the inside of her lower lip one time, then touched her own. She circled his neck with her arms and lifted herself up on her knees. She was higher now.

He smiled against the kiss while she dug her nails in his shoulder blades. He slid his hands under her tunic, fondling her breasts with one hand and grazed her back with the other. He traced her spine up and down. It drove her insane when he did that. He quickly realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. She always did. He pulled back.

‘Every bra I have showed through the fabric,’ she explained, staring down at him.

He tugged on her nipple making her moan. He did the same for the other and she groaned. He placed his lips on her neck. ‘I would like to rip this shirt off you, but the color makes your skin look so beautiful,’ he whispered against her, keeping a breast in his hand.

She smiled brightly. ‘Then make me blush.’

He grinned on her skin.

‘Then I’ll have to kiss you again,’ he said.

And he proceeded, sucking on her lips until they were red. They kissed and kissed until they couldn’t contain themselves, and made love very loudly. She was on top of him, taking all the pleasure she could. They didn't even kiss once while he was inside her. He barely stroked her. He let her do the work. The couch was big, they fit in it nicely. They stopped for a moment after she orgasmed. She put her shirt back on and walked to her bedroom without a word, maybe to tie her hair or something. 

He followed her, and halfway there he spanked her, she turned around about to say something clever but he made her lean on the closest wall, lifted one of her legs up and penetrated her again. Being careful not to touch her too much, he took the other leg for her to wrap them around him. He fucked slowly her as she yelled and they both came again. When they stopped she felt light-headed and tired. A bit overstimulated too. They were sweating and laughing. He put his pants back on but sort of forgot about his shirt. They sat again on the couch to watch TV. 

They were both unable to move. Just fulfilled. 

They rested and finished the whole wine bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always cool! :)


	4. See you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not so much smut in this.... Just cuddly things and profound conversations. Enjoy :)

‘So... I have this profile to do for a child murderer. I’ve never worked with child murderers.’

Hannibal was looking through files on his desk, organizing them by category. He wore a full suit, and because of that Alana guessed that he’d just finished an appointment. She stood by the warm fireplace, holding her briefcase and horrible stiletto shoes. Her feet were painful after standing all day.

He raised his voice calmly. ‘Children are the last people we would think of to take part in a crime such as homicide. We think children as the victims. I met killers who were as young as five. Most of the time killing their younger siblings,’ he explained.

‘I know that.’ She turned around and smiled even if he couldn’t see her. ‘The science of psychopath isn’t the thing bothering me.’

He placed the documents in a box and put it on the floor next to his desk. He fixed a pencil that wasn’t aligned with the others and swept a hand across his desk. ‘We all do bad things as children. There is a term in french. ‘Age de la raison’,’ he said.

‘In english we say that too. Age of reason. A phase that kids go through when they’re about seven. Before that we don’t really have a sense of logic, or right and wrong.’

He turned to her, and she was still by the fire. ‘How old is the subject?’

‘Thirteen,’ she replied.

‘Not uncommon. Was the victim a younger sibling or another young relative?’

She dropped her shoes and case. ‘The parents.’

Hannibal frowned and walked to the fireplace. He picked up pieces of firewood from the stack. He looked out of place making a fire in a dark blue Burberry suit. He was cautious not to move anything or burn himself. She looked at him, half-daydreaming, half-observant. She still had her coat on and started feeling warm. They stood there for several minutes, listening to the cracking of the fire. The smell of the burning was making her feel even warmer on the inside. Suddenly, her phone rang. It made her jump and she searched for it in her pockets, found the white IPhone 5 and answered.

‘Hello?’ she hollered, not expecting anyone.

‘Alana. I was hoping you’d answer.’ It was Jack. There was allot of noise in the background but she still heard him.

She frowned at Hannibal who raised his eyebrows.

‘Why are you calling me from a weird number?’ she asked.

‘My phone died...’ he seemed to hesitate. ‘Listen. We found Claire Maybel. She was walking around a gas station a few hours ago and she started getting really violent. I need you to come for an interview.’

‘I’m at Hannibal’s. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

She hung up and told Hannibal she needed to leave. It was just ten past eight, the sun was still up. Spring had sprung. He offered to go with her and drive. She accepted. She put her heels back on, and a little sound of complaint came out of her mouth. Hannibal grabbed the first jacket he saw and opened the door for Alana.

In the car they didn’t speak. It started raining and Alana looked very concentrated on her thoughts. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking about but it was probably personal and he didn’t want to intrude. It would have been rude. She’d always been serious. They didn’t have sex often, maybe once or twice a week. First reason was that they were both very busy. The other reason was that Alana was often sore after a night of very intense love-making. He hurt her well enough to make her need some Tiger Balm in the morning. But she liked it that way sometimes. It gave her energy. Endorphins invaded her and made her want to do everything and anything.

‘Here we are,’ he told her. They unbuckled simultaneously and walked to the FBI headquarters. Jack and Claire Maybel were probably already there. Hannibal had internally figured the whole thing out. It was the child murderer case.

He put his palm against the small of her back as always. Alana didn’t like hand holding. It made her feel weird. She put her hand in the pocket of her red coat. The one she kissed Will Graham for the first time with.   
Hannibal looked at her hair. She’d just removed her hood and her locks were impeccably shiny and bouncing. He guessed it was his shampoo.

Jack was waiting for them next to the interview room. It was the room where Chilton got shot. God knows where he was right now.

‘Alana,’ he greeted. ‘Dr. Lecter.’

‘Hello Jack,’ Hannibal said.

Jack noticed his hand behind her. He never questioned what was going on between them, but he knew something was happening.

‘I’m going in. Is she already there?’ she said, suddenly.

‘Yeah, she’s pretty angry. Don’t get too close.’

She looked at him straight in the eye. ‘I told you that about Will. You didn’t listen.’ Her voice was snappy. She looked up to Hannibal.

‘I won’t be long,’ she told him.

*****

An hour later they were heading back home. Piangero La Sorte Mia played on the radio. He couldn’t really see her in the dark but her presence was very real.

In bed that night, they shut the lights at 11:00. Alana wore an old plaid shirt of his that she found at the bottom of his immense closet. It smelled an unknown cologne, something very french and leathery. She lay down with him. They were both squeaky clean and damp haired.

She had closed her eyes and rubbed his arm affectionately. ‘Thank you.’

He turned his head to her. ‘What for?’

She grinned tiredly. ‘For being nice to me when I keep being an annoying slut all the time.’  

‘Alana.’ He hated when she used such language.

‘Don’t you think I’m restless, careless and snappy?’

‘At times you are a bit... Vinegary.’ The hand she had resting on his arm slapped him. He flinched under her touch.

‘I try to adapt myself to everything going on. I might leave the FBI soon. Not very soon, but a year from now I imagine myself somewhere else.’

‘Where do you see yourself?’ he asked.

‘I have no idea. Maybe Argentina. I’ve always wanted to go there. Or in northern Europe, lost in a little lithuanian village.’

‘You can dream about that.’

She sat up. ‘And what will you do?’

‘I will watch you. See you. Look at you. Observe the complexity of your dreams. And when you wake up, I’ll see you again.’

‘I’ll see you too.’

He propped himself on one elbow, staring at her in the thin light of the moonlight. With his fingers, her brushed against the silk-like skin of her cheek. He kissed her hair, then her forehead, her cheek, her lips her jaw. Just small dry kisses to hope her a good night. She didn’t move one little bit.

‘Hannibal?’ she whispered in the dark.

‘Yes?’ he asked, skimming his palm to her shoulder.

She turned her back to him. ‘See you tomorrow.’

**  
  
  
**


	5. Leave you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana says something that she learns to regret. 
> 
> SMUT!

30 DAYS OF HANNIBLOOM! DAY 5!

 

______________________

 

 

Dr. Lecter and Dr. Bloom were getting pretty domestic at this stage of their relationship. Hannibal drove her around everywhere, her car was getting a bit useless. She still lived at her house, took care of Applesauce, slept there alone. But some days, she stayed with him. They cooked together, cleaned the dishes together, read together, rearranged furniture, went for midnight walks, talked for hours on end and especially, ate. They ate what they cooked and washed it down with the wine or beer of choice of Hannibal. 

One night, they were doing the dishes and Alana was wiping. The cloth she was using fell on the floor.

‘Fuck...’ she whispered, picking it up.

He passed her a large plate with a look of disapproval on his face. ‘You know what I think of that word Alana,’ he said rolling the syllables slowly. 

‘You didn’t complain the other night. I kept saying it while you fucked me on this counter,’ she replied, smoothing a hand across the steel counter in front of her.

She was trying to annoy him. She grinned at herself for saying that.   
Hannibal looked at her sternly. ‘It’s incredibly rude Ms. Bloom. What’s to be done about that?’

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I guess you’ll just have to leave me.’

He took her wrists gently to make their chests stick together and pushed on her chin a bit too hard for her to gaze at him.

‘If you say it one more time...’ he started.

‘Fuck,’ she snapped.

He then very swiftly walked her to the living-room. He ordered her to take her shoes off and he sat on one of the armchairs. She wasn’t sure what to do.

‘Kneel down in front of me, Alana dear.’ 

She was probably going to suck him. She’d done it to him once already. He asked her to turn around. She proceeded and he took her shoulders, running his hands on them, and to her shoulderblades, noticing the very soft texture of her gray cotton dress. He pulled the zipper down and drew the fabric down her shoulders, along with her bra straps. She bent her head in sign of submission to him. He got her hair off her back, placing them the front side of her shoulders. 

He caressed her back, her smooth back, so sensitive that the warmth of his index made her clench. He unsnapped her bra and took it off. He freed her breasts, taking the dress even lowers and made her crawl out of it.

‘Turn to me,’ he said. 

She did, and he leaned back. She placed herself between his legs. Hannibal pressed a thumb to her lower lip and inserted it in her watering mouth. She dropped her jaw open, letting him touch her inside. It was as if he was trying to clean the word out. He added a finger, tugged on her lip and went down to circle her right nipple with a wet finger. Alana breathed out deeply. She put her hands on his legs, traveling to his belt, unbuckled him, snapped the button open and touched his crotch which made Hannibal groan. She pulled his pants down, just under his hips. 

‘Open your mouth,’ he ordered. ‘Wider.’

He pulled his cock out, half erect. He gave it a few strokes. Alana was cold.

Hannibal cupped her head and made her bent down to take his cock. ‘Don’t close your mouth,’ he breathed. He felt the humid air of her breath, remembering how fresh it tasted this morning after she brushed her teeth. He lowered her more and more, until the head hit the back of her throat. ‘Good,’ he praised her. He relaxed a bit more. Alana looked helpless, only in her powdery pink underwear, under his control. He asked her to suck, and she slowly started to bob up and down, taking as much of him as she could, circling her tongue around him. He jammed himself in her mouth, giving her more rythme. She focused very hard to control her gagging. He was very thick and long, making the job more challenging. Being unable to swallow her saliva, drool trickled down the corners of her pink lips. 

This was her punishment. 

His fingers entwined in her hair, gripping hard, fucking himself in her, using her, treating her like a pet. She moaned along with him, but it was more of a whimper. Her whimpers turned into little cries, sending vibrations along his length, so he continued.

‘Labai gerai,’ he told her faintly, tightening his grip on her. She wondered what it meant. His native tongue was still a mystery to her.

She continued to suck and concentrated on the oversensitive tip, licking it, using a bit of teeth. He called her name briefly.

When he knew he was going to climax, he shoved her downwards again. Alana’s mouth filled with his come, warm and salty, she felt complete. But her jaw hurt. He didn’t move for about twenty seconds. She held very still. He gasped a few times.

He put his hand on the nape of her neck, permitting her to move. 

‘Swallow.’

She kindly proceeded, sliding her lips off him as his cock got softer. She forced everything down, like a child eating an unpleasant meal. However, this was bittersweet. She backed off from him while he pulled his trousers back on. His face was serious but hazy. 

He saw come dropping on her chin. Her cheeks were red, and her lips shon nicely. Alana...

She stood, deciding not to take orders anymore. Hannibal sat straighter for her to sit on his lap. She placed her naked legs on the arm of the chair. She cuddled up against him. He wiped the thick white stream on her face and she lapped it off his finger and it almost made him hard again but she spoke up.

‘I’m sorry.’ Alana prodded his collar bone with her nose. ‘I’ll try not to swear if you hate it so much.’

He was wearing a button up shirt, the one she liked the most. It was white with burgundy vertical stripes on it. The one he wore when he made rose tomatoes.

‘Is that all you’re apologizing for?’

Alana changed position. She sat astride him, not too close to him, only for him to look at her straight. In the dimness of the room, from the curve of her chest to the bonyness of her ribs, to the glimmer of her eyes, the more he looked into her, almost into her soul, he saw something. At first it was normal, but there was a darkness. A darkness in her. Something ungodly and calamitous.  
She looked into Hannibal as well. No one saw his wickedness. No one saw the dark. People thought Will Graham was in darkness. If only they could live in Hannibal’s head. The never stopping thoughts, the perversion, the danger, the cleverness. He made sure Alana never saw that. She only saw the best in him.

What was that in her winter eyes?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘For telling you to leave me.’

‘I won’t leave you Alana.’ 

She lay a hand on his chest. ‘I have a word of advice for you Dr. Lecter.’

‘Let us hear it.’

She leaned into him and stopped at his ear.

‘Wait.’


	6. Breathe you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal loves Alana's scent.
> 
> Day 5 of 30 days of Hannibloooom!

It was morning, they’d been awake for less than an hour. Sunday. The day of the Lord.

Alana didn’t work.

Hannibal didn’t work.

She swept her hair back, panting. In the light of the morning, he looked at her hips rolling against his, graceful but strong, and she grabbed his arms, not touching his scars. She just held on to them as she moved upon him, at a tortuous rythme, taking the length bit by bit. Hannibal had been kissing her for a long time and she got tired of it, so she climbed on him.   
He thrust into her.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t move.’

He attempted to settle. He had nothing to look at since she was wearing his shirt from yesterday. She complained about being cold so he gave it to her. It was too big for her and the buttons were not buttoned correctly.

For a while she simply slid up and down him.

Thank God she’d been here. Again, he’d used her as his alibi. He made her fall asleep like last time, went on a spree and came back. Jack called Alana, and she confirmed Hannibal being with her since last night. She was so fed up with Jack. They went back to bed after.

Alana wasn’t just there for the sake of ‘being there’. She was the reason he got away with what he did. It was becoming too easy.

She knew that she was close so she stopped and pulled him to her, again, not touching his wrists. He turned her around and lay against her. He proceeded to thrust into her, groaning next to her ear. Their cheeks pressed to each other, hearing and feeling each other moan continuously. Her arms flung around him, she scratched him of pleasure until blood drew out. He kissed her neck, sucking red spots.

‘God Hannibal...’ At that moment she tightened so much around him that he wondered if she was real.

She came.

Hannibal waited for her to relax before sliding out of her. Alana breathed out while he went to lie on his side. She rolled to lie on her stomach.

‘I do not wish to be compared to a man living in the sky,’ he told her, pulling the sheet over himself.

She rolled her eyes. ‘I could be comparing you to Zeus.’ She smiled. ‘Doesn’t he live in Mount Olympus?’

‘We live in Baltimore.’

He had to make everything so realistic. She got out of bed and took the large white shirt off.

‘I think I’ll go take a bath,’ she thought out loud, walking around the bed.

‘Wait,’ he uttered. She looked at him curiously and went to sit next to him. She thought he needed to tell her something. ‘Come closer.’

She kneeled towards him and he sat up towards her, making her breasts graze over his chest. He lightly put his hand on the small of her back and leaned to smell her shoulder. He breathed the air that covered her skin. It was a fruity scent, like oranges or cherry blossoms. There was also the saltiness of her sweat in the background, and a bit of the cleaning detergent he used. Deeper even, as his nose came to the major arteries, the metallic of blood pumping through her veins. She played with the hair on the nape of his neck, and giggled faintly.

‘What are you doing?’ she questioned.

He looked up to her. ‘I’m breathing you.’

Alana kissed his forehead. ‘I need to take a bath, Hannibal.’ She tried to get up.

‘I don’t think you need one.’

‘We’re both adults here. Don’t be a needy teenage boy.’

She stayed there for a while, just looking into his eyes. Hannibal caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, until he saw her having goosebumps. She shivered.

A moment later they were both under the heavy quilt of Hannibal’s bed, holding each other face to face while he drew circles on her back, but she didn’t shiver, she was warm. And she breathed him. She couldn’t desiccate every single fragrance like he did, but he smelled nice, and it was all that mattered.

 **  
**Now Hannibal needed her to sleep again so he could prepare some steaks.


	7. Walk with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal takes Alana out one night.

They went dancing. Not regular dancing. Alana found it a bit like a dinner party with less food, more wine and more dancing. She noted the evident composers such as Bach and Mozart, but she asked Hannibal when she didn’t know. He knew all of them. It was like he was best friends with every single composer. But she was never bored of what he talked about. It always interested her. His company was strangely warming. They valsed, he called it ‘une valse à trois temps’, then they took a break to have a sip of wine, which went with the theme of the party. German and Austrian composers, just like the winemakers. There was an orchestra, and for one of the dances, not a valse, something more 19th century-ish, an opera singer came in. For the last one, Hannibal dipped Alana and kissed her once. She laughed after.

He wore a black suit, very sharp as always, with a black tie. His hair was initially swept back but it messed up after a while, pleasing Alana greatly. She wore a venetian red dress with long sleeves and a low dipped collar. Her hair was down but she had a very nice clip on the side. Hannibal took a mental note to tell her that venetian red was her color.

They had parked far and when they left the party, around midnight, she held onto him.

‘It was nice.’ she glanced behind her. ‘Your french friend... He kept checking me out.’

‘Which one?’ he asked.

‘I think his name is Antoine. Kind of a short guy.’

They crossed the street, walking a bit faster.

‘No worries. He’s married and has three children,’ he reassured her.

She stopped walking, taking off her shoes and holding them in one hands.

‘Hannibal?’

He looked at her. ‘Yes?’

She cocked her head to the side shyly. ‘My feet are killing me. Please piggy back ride me.’

He smiled a crooked smile. He turned himself and she easily pulled herself up on his back. He wasn’t that tall so it was fine. He held onto her thighs and she put her arms around his neck loosely. Hannibal started walking at a regular pace, his eyes wandering around the bourgeois town they were in.

‘I love walking with you,’ she said in a low voice next to his ear.

He chuckled. ‘Aren’t I doing most of the walking?’ he asked.

‘Fair enough. But we’re still both moving forward on the sidewalk at night.’

‘We should do this more often. Walking is good for the heart and the mind. People who walk are more likely to be healthy emotionally.’

She thought about that for a moment. ‘Are you saying I’m not healthy emotionally?’

‘I’m saying you must maintain the already sain emotions you have. But I’m sure you do plenty of walking with your dog. Animals are also good to have a healthy mind.

‘Then I’m all good.’ she sniffed his neck to smell his cologne. ‘You should get a pet too.’

‘I have everything I need, lamb. People’s minds work in different ways. Our lungs breathe the same air, our hearts beat, our bones keep us standing.’

Hannibal crossed another street. ‘We do process things individually. People always look for flaws in their minds, but they need to understand that thinking differently is not a sign of illness or disorder. There’s a limit to what a psychiatrist can do. The brain is best left alone...’ She crossed her feet in front of him. ‘And did you just call me lamb? Lamb as me being your pet?’

‘You are not my pet, Dr. Bloom.’ The car was two steps away.

‘Way number 101 to tick off a feminist.’ She slid off his back walking to the passenger side of the car. ‘Rude, Dr. Lecter.’

‘When I was a boy, my mother called me that.’

They both climbed in the car.

It was the first time he shared something about his childhood. Actually, it was the first time he shared something about before they met. Hannibal Lecter was like a treasure chest of secrets. Maybe one day, she’d know something relevant. What did Will Graham see that she couldn’t?

‘ _You see the best in him_.’

She did. All there was to her was good. But Will empathized. His disorder was killing, at a time consuming rate, her fate in Hannibal. But she did not know that yet. It was in the depths of her unconscious. Will was like a key to the treasure chest. But it was an old and rusty key. It was difficult to turn.

 

Later that night, Alana tried to get more out of him, but she let herself be shoved into the mattress and poisoned by his hands. He touched her. Even her heart.


	8. Sing to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal likes music. But he prefers to make Alana sing.
> 
> (smuttiness thrown all over the place. Don't expect this to be magnificent. It got sort of dark but then it got smutty idk????)

Alana applied mascara to her already dark eyelashes, holding her breath. Next to her, Hannibal shaved, his attention on nothing else but himself; a cut was the last thing he needed.

Alana murmured a song while finishing up her lipstick, rubbing some off her front teeth. She chanted something serene, not really saying the words. Fixing the décolleté of her wrap dress, the song ended and Hannibal finished shaving and buttoned the top button of his shirt.

‘You know that thing you always say to me when we have sex?’ she asked casually, fixing her hair in the mirror.

‘Thing?’

‘Something in lithuanian.’

He often spoke to her in french or lithuanian in those moments. It was because those words came to him more naturally than english one.

‘I’ve said many things.’

She walks closer to him. ‘ _Dainuota man_... Something of the sort.’

He tucks a free strand of hair behind her ear. ‘ _Dainuoti man_ ,’ he corrected. ‘It means sing to me in lithuanian.’

‘I know what it means. I’ve figured it out. But why do you say that?’ she placed her hands on his broad shoulders

He picked her up, a hand on her ass that he hated to admit, but loved so much. He might ask her to bend on his desk or dinner table for him to spank her. He tried not to stare too much, knowing it was impolite, but the curve of it drove him insane. Of course, he kept it to himself.

‘Because I want you to sing, Alana.’ he remained between her knees. ‘I want to know that you enjoy what I do to you. I want to hear you,’ he explained. He cupped her cheek while she looked at him in the eye, through him almost, waiting for him to talk more. ‘I want to taste you while you tell me how much you want me.’

The butterflies in her stomach were getting painful and she spasmed against him.

He bent to kiss her neck, as if he was doing something completely ordinary, crawling a hand under her dress, but kept it on her thigh. It was just to make her impatient. The kisses were feather like, with barely any tongue and no teeth at all.  He hummed against her making the whole thing even better. She kept one hand over his shoulder, encouraging him, making sure he stayed there. He gently went farther with his hand, finding her panties. He touched her wetness briefly, but didn’t linger into it.

‘Mark me, Hannibal.’ It was a command, but such a gentle one. He proceeded

The bite he made was large and it was placed at the connection between her neck and shoulder. He bit it harder and harder, pulling and releasing the skin. She tasted so good he could have eaten her whole. He continued to bite her delicate skin hungrily until her entire neck was a beautiful scarlet red. Hannibal pulled back to see her, tears in her eyes. He’d hurt her.

This relationship was on the verge of toxic.

Alana didn’t want to tell him. Maybe he knew.

There were things that Hannibal couldn’t see. The combination of lust, love and sadness made him blind. It’s not that he didn’t care about pain. It’s that he couldn’t care, he couldn’t see in Alana’s winter eyes.

To Alana it was toxic, but a good toxic. She was so turned on by his way. Being aroused came with a price ; it was so painful after. She felt like she was in some kind of a Donatien Sade novel. _It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure_.The simple fact of him being alive next to her made her want to do terrible things. They did it again and again until there was nothing to do and then they stopped, a bit dead but mostly alive, warm, sleepy, with mostly one thing on their mind. Will Graham. The subject of him came over often.

After eating her out for a good ten minutes, they kissed so she could taste herself. He’d taken her time with her. They knew they had to go to work but there was still half an hour to go. Hannibal smiled against her when she screamed; he’d gotten what he needed. Her voice.

They cleaned up and Alana went to put her shoes on. She was wearing flats. It was weird to be five inches smaller than usual out of the house.

Later they stopped at Alana’s house to feed and walk Applesauce. They went through the woods and she told him that she’d stay home tonight.

Two months. Two months since their first ‘encounter’.

They went back inside to warm up and she put some music on her IPod and plugged it to the speakers. It played Jack Johnson as she unexpectedly took some vegetables out of the fridge, carrots, tomatoes, celery, onions and two knives. Hannibal took his jacket and tie off to be more at ease and she instructed him what to do. She started to sing along.

‘ _It’s always better when we’re together... we’re somewhere in between together..._ ’

She started crying at the onions. She went to sit at the breakfast table, the one smaller than the one in the dining room. She also opened a window for fresh air. Cutting onions was never her thing. Hannibal resumed the cooking, putting everything into a pot, adding broth she’d made the day before and spices. He brought it to a simmer and covered it. When he went to see Alana and he smiled at her brightly. He didn’t smile much in everyday life. His smile was her own private reserve.

He gave her a kiss, meaning nothing. She stood up when he pulled away and she kissed him.

‘Dainuoti man?’ she asked, pronouncing it well enough for him to understand. To him it meant something very obvious, something even childlike. But to her, it was a reminder to this morning.

He splayed her on the table moments later, a hand flat on her stomach, the other holding her leg over him. Her bare foot kept rubbing his back every time she felt a wave of pleasure.

‘Calm down,’ he laughed.

He kissed her incessantly, licked her as if he was trying to have more and more.

‘How the hell am I supposed to calm down when you’re all--’ her jaw dropped and she shut her eyes, thrusting into his mouth, and she stopped breathing. He took the hand on her stomach and inserted two fingers into her. He covered her most sensitive part with his mouth and sucked one time. She screamed. The leg on his back pushed him as her back arched. To him, her yells were a beautiful music. He moved his lips to her entrance and drank her, tasted her.

‘Okay, stop.’ she waited for him to cease and when he didn’t she raised her voice again. ‘That’s enough Hannibal.’

He lifted his face up, revealing messy hair falling into his eyes and a frown. She took her leg off him and he lowered her dress to cover her stomach and thighs. She sat up with a grin on her face.

‘That was nice,’ she commented.

He pecked her lips lightly. They were wet and tasted of her. ‘The pleasure was all mine.’

She pouted. ‘No it wasn’t all yours.’ She made a weird face. ‘I sang, remember?’

She got off the table and walked to the kitchen. The soup was simmering. He walked behind her. Alana noticed how nice it smelled and peaked under the cover.

Later that night, she slept alone with Applesauce on the rug next to her bed. She wondered what was Hannibal’s favorite song. She wondered what nursery rhymes he sang as a child. She’ll ask him one day.


	9. Miss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana leaves for a week and when they're apart, they can only think of one thing.
> 
> (Kinda short but sweet, ya know?)

She’d been gone for a week.

He missed her. She missed him.

He missed her skin, the curtains of her hair falling on her shoulders. He missed her listening to him.

She missed the warmth of his chest, his hands traveling her body. She missed him playing the harpsichord.

Alana had gone to her hometown in Massachusetts to visit her family. When her parents asked, she told them that she had a special someone, but did not tell them who. They knew who Hannibal Lecter was. She used to talk about him when he was teaching her in school.   
She told them he was a bit older, was foreign and that it wasn’t serious. Her younger brothers kept questioning his name, but she never said it.

I was just like going back to the life she had before, setting the table for dinner, sleeping in her teenage bedroom with Queen posters covering every inch of the walls, walking around town, people recognizing her. It wasn’t her ideal lifestyle, but she’d missed it in a way. Nothing was complicated or gory, there was not the smell of corpses or the cries of traumatized victims. But there was also not the smell of fine wine, strange japanese meals, the woodiness of Hannibal’s bedroom. Hannibal.

On his side, Hannibal thought of Alana while composing and playing, while cooking the brain of some census taker, shaving and noticing she wasn’t putting makeup on next to him. He thought of her on Saturdays, the night she would make love to him for hours until he was almost falling asleep. He reminded her that he was quite older than her and wasn’t as performant. She’d kiss his forehead and sleep a bit farther from him.

Alana was going to come back this evening. She called this morning to ask if he wanted to pick her up. The call was brief, he only asked her how she was doing.

‘I’m fine.’ he heard the zipping of a bag. ‘You?’

‘I’m relatively well,’ he stated. ‘I could be better.’

He guessed she was smiling. ‘Would picking me up at the airport make you feel better? I hate taking cabs,’ she explained.

He left to arrive around 5:30.

Even after a week of being away from Baltimore, the trip leaving her family seemed to take centuries. Flipping through magazines passed the time, but Alana didn’t really read; she just flipped. The people in the stupid movie she watched sounded so irritating. She couldn’t even hear the flight attendants without clenching her jaw. It was probably because she knew that Hannibal was going to be there, waiting for her, making the effort to walk through crowds of tourists, emotional families and little children.   
She slept for the last hour.

Hannibal searched for her after the plane landing had been announced. She was one of the last to walk out of the gates. He saw her there, wearing her royal blue coat that brought up her eyes, with a sweatshirt underneath, skinny jeans and converse shoes. She carried a purse and a medium sized suitcase behind her. She looked much less classy, more like a teenager than anything else.

Alana didn’t see him at first, but he noticed her through everyone. Her piercing blue winter eyes seemed to glow like the moon. He walked up to her, her smile lit up and she hugged him. It was the first time she’d taken the first step in a hug. It was always Hannibal.

‘Ms. Bloom,’ he whispered next to her ear.

She took a step back. ‘Dr. Lecter.’

He held on to her waist on the way out. She told him about everything. They had dinner in the kitchen, just bringing chairs to the counter. Alana told him she couldn’t take table dinners anymore. They ate salmon tartare with a side of salad. It was a Saturday. Tomorrow would be Sunday. He told her to go to sleep, but instead she went under the sheets, lower, lower, searching him until she found him, and he wondered what he’d done for God was bless him in this way. There was a moment in the afterglow that Alana looked just like Mischa. And he realized something.

He missed Mischa the most.


	10. Dance with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They dance. That's it.
> 
> (Kind of a shorter chapter. Tomorrow's will be long, I promise)

Alana one day noticed that Hannibal had a record-player in a corner of his living room. She was having a beer, and he was having wine, and from the corner of her eye she saw it. There was also a stack of discs underneath it in a glass cabinet. The collection wasn’t impressive. It was probably just classical stuff.

In her younger years, about early twenties, she had an antique record-player in her small apartment. It was the time she started studying under the guidance of Dr. Lecter. She wore her hair straight in those days, and he dressed more casually.

She sold the record-player at the end of her studies, but kept all of her discs. One of them was the music from Dirty Dancing.

Alana came over to Hannibal’s house after work one evening with the disc in her bad.

‘Are you a good dancer?’ she asked him when they went to the living room.

He sat on his armchair. ‘Why do you ask?’ He’d taken her dancing, so he found her question strange.

‘Not your kind of dancing,’ she told him, walking to the record-player. She got her disk out of her large purse and carefully placed it on the player. She hadn’t done this in a while.

Hannibal watched her from afar. He didn’t use that player much. But the jeans she was wearing hugged her curves so well. He stood up and walked to her. The song started. She replayed the scene from the movie in her head, the one where Sylvia calls Mickey her loverboy.

Just as he was about to touch her, Alana turned around and took his hand. She placed her left one on his shoulder. He sighed and put his on her lower back.

‘Let us dance,’ she said.

At first they kept a modest distance between each other, Alana mostly looking down at her bare feet, careful not to step on his. She realized that he knew how to cha-cha, and he was probably better than her. He made her turn around and she laughed. His hand would keep traveling lower than her lower back but she’d pull it back up. They stopped to kiss sometimes, and after each time she would grind herself against him, but he pushed away. It was like a game. He wanted to touch her but couldn’t, she wanted to touch him but couldn’t. Well, it was Dirty Dancing after all. He made her turn again. He swept her off her feet and catched her.

They danced through the whole disc, and at the end they were breathless. Alana pushed him to lie down on the couch. She took her sweater off revealing a thin white tank top. She folded it and put it on the coffee table. He sat up and Alana caught him staring at her ass. It made her smile and walking to him, she gave him a little slap on the chest.

They sat by each other for a moment. Alana simply put a hand on his leg and paused it there. She leaned into him a little bit, rubbing her cheek against his pale blue button up shirt. She waited five minutes.

Then, Alana discretely ran her hand farther up his leg. He still wasn’t hard. Maybe he was misinterpreting the gesture.

She directly placed her hand on his groin and pressed it gently. She looked up at him and he groaned. He put an arm around her to bring her closer.

 

 **  
**Later they danced some more, this time to jazz and he made a mental note to tell her to wear jeans more often.


	11. Hate you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana hates Hannibal. She opens her eyes for a while, but then refuses to see what he really is.

**  
  
**

‘Oh you think it’s funny don’t you?’ she faked a smile.

He lifted his eyes from the ground. They were walking away from a crime scene but weren’t allowed to bring their cars too close, so they had to walk through a field of frozen grass.

‘What’s funny?’ he asked.

She nudged him in the rib with her elbow. ‘You bent down at the body, took a good sniff at it and looked at it without even acknowledging it used to be a living person,’ she said in a low voice, so that no one could hear her.

‘I didn’t know that person. If it would have been you I would of course be more...Sensitive,’ he explained, calmly.

They didn’t say a word until they got back to the car. It was Alana’s car this time. She seemed irritated. Hannibal wanted to ask her why but he was afraid to get more out of her than he wanted. So he waited. She never really came at crime scenes, but this was a rare event. Will Graham was working on his boat in Virginia and he couldn’t be bothered, even after Jack insisted. They needed two people for the psychological profiling.

‘You know what else bothers me?’ she asked him, turning her steering wheel left.

‘Tell me.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I think it’s a bit weird that both Will and Dr. Chilton said you were the Chesapeake Ripper. They both said it.’

‘Frederick and Will did not have the same motives. Will didn’t know what was going on in his own head. I should have guided him more. He believes I created his delusions. It’s a mix of his insanity and his desire to save his skin,’ he said. There was a pause. ‘Chilton could be the Ripper. We still don’t know that. Only one person has proven him to be. Miriam Lass.’

She parked herself in front of a coffee shop. ‘I’m getting a coffee.’ She unbuckled herself and put her gloves on before removing the keys. ‘And there’s not just Miriam to prove it. Gideon and the dead FBI agents were found dead at his house. But he still said that you were there.’ She raised her eyebrows at him. He had a professional scold. ‘Do you want coffee?’ She asked.

Hannibal waited for her. He would never go to Starbucks. Alana should have known that.

Later, he invited her to dinner and she asked what he’d be making her. He said something fancy with the word chicken thrown in it, so she accepted.

While he cooked, she propped herself on the counter, kicked her shoes off and shivered at the cold steel counter against her legs. She only wore a short sleeved dress.

‘Hannibal, I hate you.’

He went to wash his hands after mixing ingredients in a frying pan. Alana leaned back on her hands. Sometimes Hannibal found her so childish and small. She was almost a foot shorter than he was when not wearing heels. He smiled very slightly at her. ‘That was unladylike, Alana.’

‘Oh you’re intimate with me now? What happened to Ms. Bloom?’ She uncrossed her legs. ‘Actually, why don’t you call me Doctor?’

Hannibal looked at her dangling legs. ‘That is equally unladylike.’

‘Hannibal, sometimes I think you might be the Chesapeake Ripper,’ she snapped.

‘We all have our little assumptions.’ He wiped his hands with a white cloth and without being able to control himself, slapped her knee with it.

‘Ouch!’ she cried out. He walked in front of her and before he got too close, she put a foot on his stomach, stopping him.

He threw the cloth on the counter. Alana cocked her head, observing him. _It rhymes_ , she told herself. _But Will also rhymes with Kill._

‘What are you gonna do about it?’ she sighed.

He touched her small foot, not removing it, but still holding it. ‘Change your opinion, perhaps.’

‘I hate you. Right now I really do.’ She was provoking him.

She lay down on the counter, slowly, lifting both of her legs up to his chest, allowing him to move forward, closer to the counter. Her feet paused on his shoulders. Hannibal didn’t move. Alana looked up to the ceiling. She lowered her feet and paused one of them by his crotch. He still didn’t move

‘Well?’ she asked.

He wanted something else. He reluctantly took her foot away. She still didn’t look at him. Hannibal took her hips and turned her lightly. She got the message so she went on her stomach. She rested her head on her arms calmly. She seemed calm.

He touched her ass, just roaming his hand over it back and forth. Alana tried not to satisfy him with a sound but she breathed out and arched against his touch. He wished she could stay on display like that forever. He wanted to draw her like this, with her hair laying on the steel, the two different colors colliding like milk being poured into dark coffee.

He slapped her, right there, where he’d always wanted to slap Dr. Bloom. Not hard, just firmly, stating that he was the one in charge. She squealed.

Alana lifted her head to look back at him. ‘Someone’s being a bit--’ _rude_.

He slapped her again with the same force. Alana wondered how many bruises he needed to make on her. She started wearing turtlenecks and scarfs to work, her legs were abused, her breasts and shoulders got the same treatment. God forbid he’d take out a wooden paddle.

‘Hannibal,’ she whispered bluntly.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she felt another spank, much harder than the others. He lifted her dress to glare at her ass, felt it up with two hands and touched the fine lace of her panties. A hand remained on one of her cheeks, the other spanked.

He did that for a few minutes. At one point, Alana had her hands down her underwear touching herself as he beat her. Hannibal didn’t seem to mind.

‘I still hate you...’ she breathed as he spanked her once more. She was enjoying this.

He leaned on her and grabbed her throat. ‘Say it again please.’

She gasped and smiled, feeling the air on her ear.

‘Say it, Alana.’

‘No...’ she squirmed under him.

He let go of her neck.

‘Hannibal, please fuck me,’ she pleaded.

‘Pardon?’

She remembered what she got for saying that word. So she rephrased. Hannibal let her go for her to turn around. She wrapped her legs around his waist and sat up. ‘Let us have a coitus,’ she said, changing her accent.

What an insolent woman. At times, Alana Bloom was purposely insolent.

Her behind hurt so she insisted. ‘Come on. Before dinner.’

  
And he took her. Alana didn’t hate Hannibal anymore. Love wasn’t blind, it made her blind. He whispered what he’d done to Miriam in her ear while he choked her. In lithuanian of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually think this is my best chapter. Idk. I like it. I usually don't like what I write.
> 
> Tell me what you think!
> 
> xx charlotteof_denmark


	12. Close to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is a bit needy.

He came to visit her in her office that day. She was working on her computer, just transcribing her notes to Microsoft Word, to keep her profilings safely. Alana wasn’t expecting anyone.

Hannibal saw her in the crack of the door, typing frantically. She wore a red dress and her hair rested on her left shoulder. He could smell her perfume from where he stood. Alana had two perfumes. One that he guessed was Guerlin Vol de Parfum, the one she wore when she was feeling intense, angry, anxious, excited. The other, he saw her spray it on herself, was Hanae Mori Butterfly perfume. She wore that one when she was content, happy, relaxed. Sometimes she wore no perfume at all, so he had to ask how she was feeling.

Today she wore Guerlin.

He knocked and opened the door slightly. ‘May I come in?’

She gazed up at him. It took her seconds to realize it was him. She smirked. ‘Come in.’

Hannibal went to sit on the chair across from her. He observed her while she opened a drawer and put her notes in it. She rolled her hair closer to the desk and looked at him. ‘What brings you here? You never come to my office.’

‘I remember coming here for the first time. I hadn’t seen you in a few years.’

She placed her arms upon the desk, lacing her fingers together. ‘Has it felt like a few years?’ she asked. ‘Since... two nights ago?’

Her heat had become an addiction. There was a hole in him when she wasn’t there. If he couldn’t smell, see or feel her, he imagined her. He wasn’t in love, but it wasn’t just about the sex. It was like one day he could cook alone, without music or anything, and the next, he couldn’t fall asleep without hearing her breathing. She didn’t snore, and her breathing was only a faint sound in the darkness of his strange room, but it was there. He would turn around to see her back, smooth and ivory, and he’d pull the blanket for her to stay warm. He cared for her. Care. What a foreign word.

‘Forty eight hours is a long time.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s relative.’

They smiled at each other.

At first, the days following the night they spent together, Hannibal felt desire when he saw her. It wasn’t really about touching or feeling, it was just that she aroused him. But he wasn’t aroused right now. Alana stretched out her hand to his that was lying on the desk. He wrapped his fingers around her. He remembered that hand holding or cuddling wasn’t her thing. Maybe it repulsed her a little less now.

‘Will told me what happened.’

‘What happened?’

She shrugged. ‘He almost got killed.’

‘Doesn’t everybody know?’ he asked.

‘Why would he do that? Why go try and kill Will? I’m worried about him. He seems so...Dark. He talk about you.’ She took his other hand. ‘Allot.’

‘Will has been seeing me twice a week now.’

‘I know,’ she snapped.

‘There is nothing wrong with that,’ he told her.

‘Yeah. No actually it is wrong. He tried to kill you. And now you’re spending hours every week with him,’ she said, with a hint of jealousy in her voice.

‘Alana,’ he said, gripping her hands tighter.

She was right about being worried. If only she knew how smart she was. He closed his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t get hurt. He was treating her as if she were wrong. Hannibal did everything for her to stop thinking about Will. Because it was true, what she said the other time. Will opened a door in himself.

‘You can’t blame me.’

Again she was right.

‘Nor am I. The reaction you have is normal, and the friendship you have for Will is not ordinary, I assume.’

‘I don’t think he considers me as a friend anymore. As long as I don’t back off from you. But he’s wrong. He doesn’t see you like I see you,’ she explained.

‘I cannot tell you what’s happening between me and Will during our sessions. However, he is changing. Not for the best. But he’s different. He’s not the man I met two years ago in Jack’s office,’ he informed her. His thumb traced little circles on the thin skin of her wrists. She shuddered.

‘Will is.... very often our subject of conversation. I wonder why that is.’

One of his hands went to rest on her cheek. It was soft and cold. She leaned on his touch. Her eyelids shut. Alana held onto his other hand. There was no use to this, it simply felt comfortable. Hannibal looked at her as her face became rosier, warmer.

Alana thought for a while. It would be nice to be with Hannibal tonight. It would be nice to be close to him. To lie in his overly expensive sheets, to play with his hair, to let him kiss her flaws, to roll him to his back and sprawl on top of him, to sleep.

At 11:30 pm, Hannibal fell on his side of the bed while Alana kept panting, her chest rising and falling quickly. He put a finger on her neck to sense her pulse. It was regular but loud. She started laughing and went on her belly to prop herself on her stomach.

‘Well that was....’

He groaned. ‘Don’t complain.’

She scooted closer. ‘’Not complaining. I’m actually quite satisfied. I...don’t know why, but I needed this.’

He took her in his arms without notice, and she screamed a little but he slapped her backside and she shut up. ‘You know I don’t like it when you do this, Hannibal,’ she breathed.

‘I detest many things you do. And when you stop being terribly beautiful, when your skin stops feeling like silk, when you’re neck stops smelling Guerlin, tell me, and I will make sure you stay as far from me as possible,’ he stated.

She kissed his chest.

‘Never, Alana.’ he held her closer, and she wrapped herself around him. ‘Never will you stop being terribly beautiful.’

When hearing that, her heart sunk a little.

**  
  
  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just so you guys know, these fics don't really follow each other. some of them are really domestic, others are more sexual. I'm just exploring different ways that their relationship could be like.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Also, comments are always nice :)


	13. Smile about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana smiles about Hannibal.

One morning, he came to bring her some pastries for breakfast. She invited him in, took his coat and she told him to wait for her in the living room while she made tea. It was a sunday on which she didn’t sleep over at his house because she was working too late. They decided to catch up at her house.

She never really saw him make bakery things, so she wondered which shop he approved of to have came back with danishes, croissants and muffins. Maybe something expensive with french owners.

The fire underneath the television was already set. Applesauce was resting on the largest couch. She scooted over when Hannibal sat down.

‘You prefer black tea, right?’ she called.

‘It is my preference, yes.’

Alana nodded to herself, taking out a large wooden box where she kept all her tea. She picked the best one for Hannibal. Then she took her own favorite, chai. She didn’t know why, but when she tasted it and closed her eyes, it reminded her of Hannibal. Something of the flavour was just so strong and rough.

In the living room, Applesauce put her head on Hannibal’s lap. He ignored it at first but then she started rubbing herself against him, so he pat her head.

Alana had taken the pastries and put them all on a large flowery plate. The water was boiling, so she took two white cups from the cupboard and poured the water. She wondered if she should put everything on a platter and bring it or just make two trips. _Don’t you have bigger problems?_ she told herself.  _You profile sick fucks for a living and you can't make a simple choice like this one?_

Alana threw the paper bag away, found a nice ceramic platter underneath the sink and put everything there. One of the many things they had in common was that they both had their tea without sugar or milk. So she omitted those from the things she’d put on the platter.

She came out of the kitchen. ‘These smell amazing. Where’d you--’

As she arrived in the living room, she saw on the sofa, Hannibal scratching her dog’s belly, whispering nonsense and even laughing. Applesauce had her tongue all out, clearly enjoying herself. Hannibal never gave her more than a little scratch behind the ear.

She smiled.

He saw her from the corner of his eye, and said to the dog, ‘Be careful, Alana’s going to want to sit down. Move over a little.’

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, out of all men, was giving an animal a cuddle. Alana found it completely adorable and wondered where all this affection came from. It was some type of zootherapy. It seemed to work because he smiled brightly at Alana, more than usual.

She placed the food on the coffee table and pushed Applesauce away gently.

‘Well then. You guys go along.’

He took the cup she offered him. ‘Surprisingly, we do.’

‘Animals are the best kind of therapy. They don’t judge you.’

She went closer to him and kissed his cheek.

‘I prefer human contact by far,’ he told her, putting a careful hand on her knee.

Applesauce fell asleep. Alana and Hannibal spoke softly not to wake her. They didn’t eat everything, but at least half of it. She found him especially kind that day.

 

Hannibal killed a woman last night and prepared her liver in the early hours of the morning. He was sure Alana would never see who he really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know, this was out of character. But Hannibal is always manipulative isn't he? He's also a huge hypocrite).
> 
> (what a dick).


	14. Love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana has a back pain.

In the faint light of a few candles, Alana Bloom lay diagonally on the large bed of Hannibal’s bedroom. She lay on her stomach, arms above her head. She waited a few minutes there and heard him coming in. He only wore his pajama pants, which made her happy. He didn’t see that she stared at him because her arm hid her face a bit, but she spied him continuously. They hadn’t even touched since this morning, but her arousal was building by simply feeling the sheets on her body.

Hannibal opened a little bottle that she guessed was oil. She lifted herself up on her elbows to speak.

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

He poured a small amount on his palm. ‘Apricot Kernel oil. Rich in vitamin A, C and E. It is often used for irritated skin or skin disorders, but very commonly used by massage therapists.’ he rubbed his hands together, approaching her and climbing on his knees on the bed. ‘It also reduces stress,’ he added. He sounded like he was presenting a meal like he always did.

She lay her head back on the bed. ‘Good to know,’ she groaned as he lay his hands on her tense shoulder blades.

He kneaded the muscles at the base of her neck with circular movements. He went lower, to her ribs, putting a light pressure.

‘Why didn’t we do this before?’ she whispered. ‘And you can go harder.’ he proceeded and she sighed.

‘You never brought it up,’ he replied in a soft voice.

‘Oh, am I the one who has to bring things up? I didn’t know you were a masseur.’

His fingers dragged the length of her spine, still applying pressure. ‘Relax, Alana. This is for your own good.’

He didn’t really answer her question but she ignored him. There was only silence and the sound of his rough hands on her back, making a very low scrapy sound. He was so warm against her, almost burning. She knew he was dealing with a huge amount of self control for not going down when he worked on her lower back. Alana thought he would spank her any minute. But no. He contained himself and focused on the massage. He stopped a moment, leaving her to shiver. He added more oil, pouring it directly on her back. She expected it to be cold, but it was the same temperature as her body. He probably warmed it up a bit before starting.

He straddled her. She felt his erection through his pants and unconsciously ground her bottom between his legs.

‘Later, Alana,’ he breathed, very close to her ear. He hovered her. This was driving her mad.

‘Whatever you say, sir,’ she said.

He continued his kneading, applying more pressure when he pressed his hands forward, toward her heart. It was important to drive the blood upwards while giving a massage. He always remembered that. After a while, he simply put pressure, a finger at a time on seemingly random spots of her back. Alana wondered what he was doing. When he was done with that, she felt all dizzy and strange. They were probably pressure points for back pain or something.

He finished the massage with small strokes. She seemed to have fallen asleep. Her body was limp and heavy.

He hovered her once again, placing a long kiss on the back of her shoulder. ‘Are you there, mylimasis?’ he asked.

She smirked at him, not understanding the last word of his sentence. _Fucking lithuanian_ , she thought. ‘Doctor, what have you done?’ her tone was amused. She flipped herself and hitched a leg on his waist.

He took her breast in his hand and he grinned back at her. ‘I have loved you. And I will love you now.’

She pulled him down and kissed him hard. ‘Love me? Don’t you mean make love to me?’ she asked, innocently.

He stared down at her and touched her wetness. Her nails dug into the skin of his neck as she gasped loudly at the sudden touch.

‘I mean love you, my lamb.’

And for the first time, he didn’t ravage her, he didn’t fuck her, he didn’t hurt her. She didn’t ask him to hurt her. He made love to her. Slowly, touching her everywhere, letting her do as she pleased. Alana climaxed on top of him, falling on his chest. She didn’t refuse to be held when he kept her against him in the afterglow.

She lay on him for half an hour, pondering about things that were very exceptionally not about Will Graham. Hannibal caressed her hair, smoothing it on her oily back while he was half-asleep. His breathing was regular, their heartbeats matched.

‘Hey,’ she murmured without moving.

‘Mh?’

‘You don’t really mean it when you say that you love me, do you?’

Alana was one hundred percent sure that Hannibal was only saying that because he wanted her to feel loved. She thought deep inside herself that he couldn’t love her that way.

 

Actually, Hannibal didn’t care what she felt deep inside. He’d fallen for her a little bit. The problem was that he fell for her every day after that night. Hannibal was falling deeper and deeper in the path of love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always nice :) thanks for reading :)


	15. Carry you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He carries her.

They had dinner and he asked Alana if she wanted more beer. She accepted his offer.

‘Do you mind if I sleep here?’ she called when he was adding a sedative to her drink. ‘I’m not really in a driving mode.’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I was going to propose it anyway.’

He had a rude police officer in mind. He’d gotten a new recipe book that he’d ordered from France, and he was eager to try on of the recipes out.

Alana waited patiently. She complimented the beer, even if it was the same as every time. She couldn’t drink anything else after he had her taste this one.

Suddenly she questioned him. ‘Have you had any affairs before me?’

Hannibal coughed a bit. ‘Affairs?’

‘Yeah. I don’t know. Coworkers and stuff.’

He was about to mention his aunt but then decided to shut up about that. ‘Yes, I have,’ he told her.

It made her smirk. ‘Like who?’ She took a sip of her beer.

Under the table, he touched her thigh and paused his hand underneath her skirt, close to her hips. ‘No one you would know of.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘So many secrets, Dr. Lecter,’ she sighed.

‘So many you wish to never know, Ms. Bloom’ he added.

She scratched her neck. ‘I’m getting really sleepy. Are you going to bed?’

‘Too much beer. It’s only ten, Alana. Would you like a bath?’

His thumb drew patterns on her thigh. ‘That would be nice.’

She got up at the same time he did, and drew herself closer to him. Hannibal put his hands on her waist while she circled his neck with her arms and he bent down to kiss her. Alana seemed to melt into him from the drowsiness.

‘Alana? What’s wrong?’ He knew.

She pressed herself on his chest. ‘No sex tonight okay?’ she whispered in a voice he could barely hear.

He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him tightly with the last strength she had. ‘Tonight you sleep,’ he said to her, but mostly himself. She would sleep, hopefully until tomorrow morning when he was done with everything.

Hannibal carried Alana through the living room, careful not to bump her into anything, passed the intimidating samurai armor, sat her on one of the armchairs and undressed her. While he folded her dress neatly and placed it on a little table, she walked to the bed and curled up with a pillow. He went at her side to cover her and smoothed the blanket on her, as if it would stay wrinkleless.

‘Goodnight,’ he said, kissing her temple.

‘Hannibal?’ she called just as he was walking away.

‘Not many guys would carry a drunk girl to bed and not bang her. I know I’m safe with you.’

She stretched her hand out and he took it.

‘I wouldn’t take advantage of you, dear. Not ever,’ he promised.

He stood there for a while, waiting. Her hand fell from his. He took his jacket and tie off, ready to leave out the door but just at that moment, a voice spoke.

‘I’m sure you’ve drugged me. Who knows why?’ she sounded like a crazy person talking to herself and he frowned deeply. Taking everything in consideration, she wouldn’t remember thinking this tomorrow. But still. Alana was very smart. She analyzed her feelings constantly. That was a bad thing. He leaned on the doorway.

 **  
**Maybe that officer wasn’t so rude after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, that was short. Sorry. Let's just say it was a drabble.


	16. Cry about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana doubts again.

Will had been daydreaming in his class when it was over. His class ended at eight, but at ten he was still there. Alana worked late that night and she kept passing by the door of the classroom to check on him.

He was sitting on his chair, completely immobile, eyes open and glasses on the tip of his nose, he snapped back to reality when the most beautiful sound in the world woke him.

‘Will? Hello?’

It was Alana in front of his desk. She wore a scarf around her neck and had her red coat on. She waved her hand in front of him.

‘Hm?’ he groaned, pushing his glasses back in place.

‘You’ve been here for at least two hours. What are you doing?’

He stretched his neck. ‘Thinking about killing. The usual.’

She smiled darkly. ‘Killing of other people or your own?’

He never looked at her in the eye. He did once, when they kissed but it was for half a second.

But at that moment he looked at her.

‘You think I’m a murderer?’

When he looked at her for the first time, they’d just kissed; his eyes were confused, lost, shaking.

‘I think there’s something going on in your head. I think you opened a door in yourself,’ she replied.

He stood up, fixating her. His eyes were still lost, but darker, emptier. ‘You have Hannibal Lecter right under your nose. You’ve had him even before I met him. And in all those years, there wasn’t a single instant that you thought...’ He paused and leaned on the table. ‘Maybe... This man isn’t what he seems.’

She giggled with sarcasm. ‘You think he’s the intelligent psychopath?’

‘I think he’s more,’ he replied instantly.

Alana left a bit later, going home alone, feeling numb, not really thinking about anything. In her shower, she only thought of the soap cleaning her body, the heat of the shower, Applesauce barking at the wind outside.

She got out and only sitting on her bed did she start to cry. First, her face remained motionless but salty tears trickled like rain on a window. She ignored them, keeping her eyes on the heavy book she was reading. Several minutes passed. Nothing seemed to move except for the turning of pages and the water burning her eyes. She wiped it away. Her dog had calmed down and slept soundly.

Something started to take so much space in her throat that she burst into tears, making Applesauce jump.

Will is never wrong.

Hannibal Lecter’s cell phone rang half an hour later. It wrote Alana on the screen.

‘Hello.’

‘Hannibal...’

He sits down by the fire in his bedroom. ‘What’s the matter?’ Her shaky voice alarmed him.

‘I’ve been struck with a terrible doubt.’

‘Alana, we’ve talked about this,’ he complained.

‘Don’t do that to me Dr. Lecter! I won’t take it,’ she said, a bit loudly.

‘Do what?’

She sounded exasperated. ‘You keep pulling me farther and farther away. I try to get closer but you won’t let me. I’m not an idiot, so don’t treat me like one.’

He shifted in his chair when she told him she wasn’t an idiot. Of course she wasn’t. Alana Bloom had been one of his cleverest students.

‘You are the most logic and stable person I know, Alana. I’m not treating you like an idiot. You simply seem like you need reassurance. Perhaps I can be your guide.’

‘I don’t need you to reassure me. Just tell me why Will is acting like you’re an insane cannibal. He doesn’t say it directly, but it spills out every time he talks. For the last time,’ she took a deep breath. ‘What is going on?’

Because I am, he said to himself.

Alana thought he was searching for a clever way to interpret the situation. The sound of Hannibal’s breathing on the other line got longer and longer.  

‘Hannibal, please...’

The other line dropped. A flat beeeeeeeeep followed.

In his chair, Hannibal Lecter rubbed his forehead, then his eyes and ran a hand through his own hair, lingering into his locks for a long time. He felt as frustrated as the last time he saw his aunt, Lady Murasaki. He pulled at his hair. He felt no guilt or shame; only frustration and fear.

When he thought he was going to fall asleep that evening, he cried silently, as if someone would hear him. He cried for the women he’d lost. His love Murasaki, his sister Mischa, his surrogate daughter Abigail .

  
And the light of his life he couldn’t bare to lose. Alana Bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow such angst.


	17. Listen to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Hannibal have weird dirty talks.

‘What was that all about? You and Will?’ she said, taking off her earrings and putting them aside.

Alana Bloom sat in her pink underwear and bra against the pillows of Hannibal’s bed. He took his tie and shirt off in front of the mirror.

‘Alana, patient-therapist confidentiality.’

She waited for him, deciding where she would kiss him first. Maybe she’d let him kiss her first. She didn’t really want any ravaging tonight. Just some passionate sex. Not too much mouth kissing. Alana quite enjoyed little pecs near her ear. Hair grabbing was also nice.

Before she knew it, he was crawling between her legs, kissing her knee. He snapped her bra off and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, licking it until it was hard.

She cradled his head, smoothing his perfectly done hair. ‘I’m not asking what you’re talking about, I’m rather wondering why he’s being all weird about you.’

He nuzzled at her chest. ‘Your idea isn’t very concrete, meldžiamasis.’

‘What does that mean?’ she asked, pulling her panties down.

He helped her take them off.

‘It means my dear in lithuanian,’ he answered. His eyes were questioning her on how they were going to do this. She didn’t respond physically so he pulled on her thighs for her to lie down.

‘No, wait,’ she pressed and pushed his hands away.

She flipped herself under him and lifted her ass. He quickly moved his hand underneath her stomach before easily sliding two fingers in her. He did everything with such swift movements, sometimes Alana wondered if he was real.

‘We seem to be in this position allot, don’t we?’ he whispered.

She settled herself underneath him a bit more, spreading her legs. ‘It’s my favorite,’ she squealed.

He moved his fingers again, realizing that she must have been ready for a long time. She gasped.

He flipped her hair off the base of the nape of her neck and started to nibble at the skin very lightly, grazing his sharp teeth, tasting her saltiness and sweat. ‘Will and I have been discovering similarities in each other.’

‘Like what?’ she said, gasping at the same time.

He removed his fingers. Alana suddenly felt empty. He was making her ache.

‘Like you. We have you in common,’ he said.

She laughed. ‘You’ve had me in common for a long time.’ She felt him standing on his knees, keeping contact by touching her lower back, steadying himself. ‘Now please. Please Hannibal.’

‘Now, you say?’

She put her forearms under her forehead. ‘Yes. I beg of you.’

Hannibal entered her. He grabbed her hips and started to move in and out of her at a leisure pace. She groaned in complaint, so he went a bit faster.

She loved feeling Hannibal, hearing him. She loved his rough and gentle hands roaming across her pale body. She loved when he spoke his native tongue to her. Not knowing what it meant made him seem so mysterious and dark, almost like another person; someone completely different than when he was teaching her several years ago.

But Alana couldn’t get Will Graham off her mind. There was something about him. She hadn’t spent a day after their kiss not thinking about what it felt like when she pulled away from him and he continued to kiss her cheek.

Sometimes, Alana wanted Hannibal to be Will.

Sometimes, she felt like she was forgiving him.

Hannibal attended to her wet cunt by slipping a hand underneath her again, rubbing her clitoris. It wasn’t enough to make her orgasm but it sent an immense wave of pleasure through her entire body.

‘Jesus christ, Hannibal...’ she gasped.

She propped herself up on all fours and held onto the bedhead.

She continued to pant loudly, but raised her voice again. ‘You know... If you were both the Chesapeake ripper...’ his pace quickened. ‘You and Will, I mean... You’d make a really good team.’

Listening to her say that made him grab her hair in a ponytail, pulling her head back as near to him as possible so he could kiss her ear, once, twice, and groan right there, tickling her.

‘Are you close Alana?’

He knew she was, but he asked anyway.

‘Uhuh,’ she said. ‘I just need...’

His fist pulled on her a bit harder. ‘What do you need?’

‘I need you to _fuck_ me as hard as you can. Do it.’

He removed his hand from between her legs and slapped her ass, making her scream. That will show you, he thought.

So he thrust into her hard, with all his strength, almost fearing of breaking something inside her. But it was what she wanted, so he did it again and again until she yelled of pleasure, and came. He came inside her.

She felt excellent. The warmth of his ejaculation made her want more and more, she wanted him to come again. But he got off her and took her in his embrace.

She was completely out of breath. Her orgasm continued even when he was calm, soothing her with strokes along her arm. Alana wanted to stay in this bed forever. It took her five minutes to get out of the ecstasy Hannibal had sent her in. _Maybe next time I’ll try to make him call me his whore_ , she thought.

‘Are you mad at me?’ she asked.

She was referring to her swearing. ‘No.’

She was reassured. She lay her head on the coarse hair of his chest, listening to his heart.

‘I think you should do this to me tomorrow night.’

He chuckled at that. ‘You won’t be able to do anything tomorrow.’

He was right. But it was what she wanted. It had been a dirty and passionate session of lovemaking.

 **  
**He didn’t see dirty. He saw the darkness in Alana again. He saw an opportunity.


	18. Smell you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana takes a step forward in their relationship.

It was finally sunny again in Baltimore, Maryland. Everyone was smiling again and most importantly to Hannibal and Alana, Pottery Barn had gotten new things for spring. For some strange reason, they both loved that store. She used to think it was too low-class for him but one time, he asked her where her coat hanger was from. She said it was from Pottery Barn and they started talking about it as if it was a patient. He told her that he often purchased kitchen tools there, and his bathroom was mostly furnitured from there.

She called him on the day they would go. Hannibal said that he also needed to go at a clothing store for new ties and to replace one of his favorite shirts that he’d lost recently.

‘What shirt?’ she said, curiously.

‘It’s a very light blue, from Ascot. Why do you ask?’

‘Nothing. Pick me up at 2:00. I have to measure some walls, I’m looking for a new wardrobe.’

‘Perfect. I’ll be there.’

Alana laughed all alone in her dining room when she hung up. She was wearing some blue jeans, a white tank top and a stolen shirt over it. It went down under her butt, and she hadn’t bothered to button it up. It smelled very nice, surprisingly, because she wore it around the house a lot and never cleaned it. The shirt smelled like the most refined aftershave and the neck of Hannibal when she hugged him. It had a tag with five letters on it. Ascot.

She originally wasn’t going to keep it on, but she thought that she might as well. Maybe just make it look a bit more fashionable, so she tied a thin braided leather belt around her waist. She looked at herself in the mirror sideways and thought it made her breasts look nice.

An hour later, right when she saw his car outside, she put her boots on, took her purse and walked out. He was about to open his door, but instead he remained on his seat frowning and what she was wearing. The weather didn’t require a coat or sweater, so he clearly saw. She grinned at him awkwardly.

She sat down in the passenger’s seat with a sigh.

‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted her.

‘Hey,’ She leaned over to kiss him. He put a hand on her pale cheek to stop her.

‘Stealing is not a way to get the things you want, Dear Alana.’ He was giving her his professional scold.

She blushed. ‘If I can’t have you against me at all time, I need a replacement.’

Her words made him want to make love to her, right now, in the car. But instead his hands went to the steering wheel.

‘It does suit you,’ he assured her.

She crossed her arms, smiling. ‘Thank you.’

They drove for fifteen minutes, talking about a bit of everything, but he did most of the speaking. She was attentive to everything he said.

Sometimes, all she needed was a ring on her finger. A ring. They’d been friends for years, and never touched. Now, he touched her whenever she wanted him to. They were still colleagues and helped each other with work. He was a source of infinite knowledge and ideas. She was even more than that to him. A ring and they would probably look married, in a way. Alana had not yet said the words to him. She admired him, adored him, and he had a special place in her heart. But she couldn’t seem to find it.

She never had a boyfriend. Not even as a teenager. She lost her virginity to her roommate in her first apartment. Alana had not lied to Will. She didn’t date.

They parked next to the stores and entered Pottery Barn.

They split up without saying a word. Hannibal went to inspect rather than look at kitchen utensils. He checked where they were from, but his attention was taken away by a beautiful chair. It looked antique and old, however, it was made in 2014. The seat was made of real leather and seemed incredibly comfortable, considering the long hours he sat on his other chair. It cost around 1,000$, a bit less. He sat on it, then asked a salesman if they had any left in stock. He went to check in the backstore, and Hannibal searched for Alana.

Alana was looking at sheets and pillows. She seemed nostalgic. He went behind her and put his hands on her hips. She knew it was him. She would have recognized him blindfolded.

‘What do you think?’

He looked at the sheet set, putting his chin on her head. ‘It’s a king size. You have a double,’ he pointed out.

‘I’d like to have a king,’ she said with a small voice.

The sheets were a nice broken white with tiny dots on them.

‘Why?’ he asked, moving one of his hands to her stomach.

She placed the package back on the shelf in front of her and turned around to look at Hannibal in the eyes. ‘I...’ she started.

He held her lower back. ‘What is it?’

‘I think we should live together,’ she said, without hesitating.

He pressed her close to him and kissed her forehead gently. For a few torturing seconds, he said nothing, keeping his lips against her.

‘The feeling is mutual,’ he told her. He immediately thought about him being a murderer. He didn’t think it that way, but murderer would be the official word. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. If I never say yes, I’ll always say no. She’ll either be my alibi, or something more.

She hugged him, putting her ear against his chest. ‘Do you know how happy that would make me?’

‘I know.’

She took a good sniff at him. He smelled a bit different today. Maybe his new spring fragrance made from weird flowers.

They stood there in the store that was almost empty. Some people looked at them with a judging glare but Alana and Hannibal didn’t see.

He loved her.

She tried. She tried.

One their way back, Alana started speaking first.

‘I’ll give you your shirt back.’

‘That won’t be necessary. It’ll come off sometime anyways,’ he assured her.

As they arrived at his house, he spoke.

 

‘Alana, did you know that I had a sister?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woaaaaaah. Woaaaaah.  
> *dramatic music*  
> What will happen next?


	19. Seduce you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Hannibal take the week off.

**  
  
**

They both took a week off. Alana stayed with Hannibal most of the time. Actually, she slept over every single night for seven days. She sometimes left, telling him she had to go see a friend or things of that nature. But she came back every time. On the fourth morning, she woke up, with her head in the crook of his arm. A protective arm held her. She wondered how they ended up like this after nine hours of sleeping. She flung her own arm over his stomach, rubbing his side to wake him up.

After a moment, he moved and put her at his level.

‘Hi, you.’ she ran her fingers through his pale brown hair to the side, but it fell back rebelliously on his eyes.

‘Getting used to living with me?’ he asked her.

She chuckled. ‘I’m getting used to hearing your theremin make a weird noise whenever I walk in front of it to get water at night,’ she said.

He laughed as well, pulling her in a warm embrace. He breathed her wonderfully messy hair.

‘Can we have a king sized bed when we live together? It would be so much more fun,’ she murmured against his chest.

‘We can have whatever you want. Your wishes are my commands.’

They didn’t speak for a while.

She lifted her face up to say, ‘You also have to teach me stuff in Lithuanian.’

He didn’t answer but he felt her shiver so he covered her with the dark blue blanket. It brought out her eyes.

He rolled her over, slowly for once, and went on top of her. He lay a kiss on her sternum and went over to her ear. ‘Mano gyvenimo šviesa,’ he told her.

‘Mh... What was that?’

He met her gaze. ‘Light of my life.’

Later, they went grocery shopping at the market, the one that Hannibal approved of because the vegetables had been grown in Maryland and not California. They picked some things to make a salad. He explained the origin of the name of every single kind of lettuce, leaving Alana a bit weirded out that people actually chose the name of a lettuce by naming it after something really significant. It was just leaves. But obviously to Hannibal, it was more important.

He enjoyed seeing her in the daylight. She looked radiant but vulnerable at the same time. Her skin was so pale. She didn’t do her hair for him. She did it for everyone, but with him she could be herself.

Being the true Hannibal would cost him his life.

Alana felt like Hannibal was sheltering her too much. She didn’t know why he did that, but he was constantly making sure that she was okay. When she was bruised, he applied ice where it hurt. He drove her everywhere. He even seemed uncomfortable when she was driving. He sometimes paid for her. Alana enjoyed it, because she was used to being on her own. It felt different. She never insisted on anything. Hannibal took care of her because he wanted to. He also took care of Will after all. It wasn’t creepy like he was obsessed with her. He was just older and maybe to him she was still the young woman who walked into class with a ponytail.

When the car started, the classical channel started.

‘Okay, time for Alana’s music,’ she warned. She took her phone out of her purse along with a small white cable and plugged it.

‘What will we listen to?’ he asked.

She said nothing but scrolled through her playlist. She hesitated between two songs, and before Hannibal knew it, it started.

She seemed very pleased with herself, and although _Devil in disguse_ was not of Hannibal’s taste at all, he didn’t look like he minded.

_‘You’re the devil in the sky, oh yes you are, devil in the sky.’_

At home, he cut up various herbs to make the dressing, making a lovely metallic sound that Alana liked very much. The sound of knives reminded her of him, only him.

At her little table, a bit far from the counter where he worked, she tried to dice the tomatoes nicely. She cleared her voice looking at him.

‘Something wrong, Ms. Bloom?’ he enquired, taking his eyes off the shallots.

‘You’ve been terribly rude, you haven’t offered me a drink Dr. Lecter.’ She raised her eyebrows.

‘Ah,’ He lifted a finger up and walked to the fridge. ‘Would you like something from your own personal reserve?’

‘Yes please.’

He took a cold glass out of the freezer and selected a bottle from the fridge. Cabernet Sauvignon, as always. The name of the grape reflected her.

When he served their two plates, she picked out some nice satin doilies from one of the many cupboards. He put down the salad utensils and turned to her.

‘Jūs danguje velnias,’ he said.

‘What does that mean?’

He put an arm around her. She thought that he was going to stay there, but instead he spanked her.

‘You’re the devil in the sky,’ he said smiling down at her.

She took the doilies and walked behind him giving him a light pat on the behind. ‘Damn you, Hannibal Lecter.’

During their meal, he taught her other lithuanian words. It made her melt to know that his first language was not english. It wasn’t even his second! He had not really told her, but since he spoke lithuanian, she assumed that he came from there. She also heard him speak french sometimes, so in some way he’d been to france. Then there was the italian. When they listened to italian opera, he would translate her the story.

‘Do you know Florence?’ he asked taking a bite.

‘Only from your drawings.’

He remembered being in Florence. He killed three men there.

Later on, she took her bath while he showered. He was surprised to find her already out when he was done. She had a towel around her and she was applying a night cream. In his opinion, she didn’t need any. Every flaw was beautiful to him.

But then, so was every murder.

So his opinion didn’t matter.

‘Do you know what all your talking in your strange language makes me feel like?’

He rubbed a towel on his drenched hair before looking at her. ‘Yes.’

He always knew.

At nine, Alana found herself straddled over Hannibal’s lap. She was slow and gentle at first, taking her time. He spoke to her as she rolled her hips. He lay down on the made bed, his hands on her thighs.

‘Grind yourself more,’ he advised her. ‘Lower.’ Pleasuring her was more important than his needs right now.

She took him fully into her. She ground herself onto his pelvis as he pushed her against him downwards. Her breath was shaky when it came out.

‘Don’t forget, Alana, you do what you want, you are the one in control.’

She realized that she liked this position very much.

He observed her movement, not moving from his position, drinking the details of her body. Her ribs appearing more and more when she quickened her pace, taking shorter breaths, her grip tightening on his biceps, her still damp hair framing her goose-bump covered breasts, her translucent and cold eyes. She belonged to him in that moment. He decided to sit up as she went up and down his length, tightening every time it hit the right spot.

He held onto her, not tightly, just running his cautious hands up and down her body, feeling her being there, being his.

She got more aggressive, pounding herself hard, digging her fingers in his scalp, panting, sometimes saying his name. He couldn’t do much because she was being so violent, so he lay his head on her clavicle.

‘Right there...’ she whispered.

‘Mano meilė, priimti viską...’ he whispered back.

She clumsily pulled his face to her. They looked at each other. This was him, bare, where she could see him entirely. He was dark. He looked scarred. He looked even a little bit dead, as if a part of him was gone. But her movements didn’t slow down.

He kissed her with his teeth bare. They breathed in and out in each others mouth. She moaned loudly a few times. First she threw her head back, then she rolled her eyes up and shut them.

Her nails clawed his hair wildly. Seeing an opportunity to send her to the edge, he bent on her exposed breasts and took one of her nipples in his mouth. She steadied herself by landing one of her hands behind her on the mattress.

‘Hannibal... You monster...’

And she screamed. She was done. He climaxed instances later.

They cuddled throughout the rest of the night. Hannibal was glad to be close to her.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever had one like this,’ she confided, examining his rough fingers.

‘One what?’

‘An orgasm. It wasn’t like the others. I don’t know why.’

‘You seemed to enjoy being the dominant one. You’re usually careful when you touch me. Experimenting, maybe, Dear Alana?’

‘No! Don’t say it like that. It was just nice.’

He turned over to shut the light off. ‘Thank you,’ he said when he returned to her.

‘For what?’

‘I enjoyed it very much too.’

It rang in his head for the rest of his life.

**  
**_‘You monster.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay it got really porny but WHATEVER. 
> 
> Comments are always nice! Thanks for reading y'all xx


	20. Marry you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana has a Goddaughter, but no particular talent with children.  
> Also, angst.

‘What are you doing tonight?’

Hannibal and Alana sat with their coffees on a bench near the FBI headquarters. Alana had just finished giving her morning class.

‘Tonight?’ she asked, straightening herself. ‘Not sure. I’m leaving work early.’

‘How come?’ he wondered.

‘All godmothers have responsibilities. My friend’s daughter is my godchild.’

He took a sip at his coffee. ‘I did not know you were fond of children.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t love children. When she was a baby, it was easier. I didn’t have to talk to her or actually do things with her. She’s six now,’ she explained.

‘Children at that age are powerless. Anything that happens under the age of eight can ruin them. Forever.’

Alana examined his face for a while. He’d said that like he knew what it felt like. Speaking of a fact that you read in a book was not the same as speaking of a fact that marked you.

‘Well, I’ll make sure not to traumatize her,’ she mused.

He held his watch up to see what time it was. ‘It’s eleven.’

She stood up to that. ‘I’m gonna get my things and print something for Will before I leave. I’m picking up Clara at one.’ She threw her cup in a nearby trash can. ‘Join us if you like,’ she called, walking away.

He smiled at her and turned around, but when he was sure that she wasn’t looking, he watched her hips sway before she disappeared in the sad building.

A few hours later, Alana searched a kids channel on her cable, but it kept landing on boring news and talk shows. She sat on the arm of the big couch, leaning on the backrest. A bit farther, on the other side of the couch, a blonde little girl wearing a ponytail and a purple outfit with a vacant expression on her round face. Her eyes were a dark blue and she had a button nose.

‘Why don’t you have any kids?’ she asked, bored.

‘Hm...?’ Alana went. ‘I don’t have time. And you need two people to have a baby.’

Clara crossed her arms. ‘I don’t want to watch TV.’

‘Hungry?’

The girl smiled brightly. ‘Yes!’ and she ran to the kitchen.

Alana babysat Clara about once a month. Her mother sometimes worked night shifts so she had to catch up on her sleep, and her husband worked all day. It was the weekend, so no school. Alana loved her with all her heart, and she knew how to care for children, but playing and communicating was harder.

She poured some lemonade in a glass and looked in the pantry. There were visibly many healthy granola things, mostly cereal and crackers, but at the back, there was Alana’s little secret. Twinkies and Oreos. She barely ever ate any, only when she had cravings. It made her think of Hannibal, if he craved anything so disgusting and unhealthy.

At the table Alana forced herself not to eat anything. She wasn’t starving or anything, but she really liked Oreos.

‘Mommy never lets me eat sugar stuff between meals,’ she said, chewing.

‘Nor should she. This is our little secret.’

Clara put a finger in front of her mouth. ‘Shh,’ she said.

They then heard Applesauce making excited sounds, looking out the window in the front.

‘Why is she doing that?’ asked Clara.

Alana shrugged. ‘Maybe she saw another dog pass by. Or just a car.’

They sat in silence until a familiar voice said, ‘Alana?’

She knew he would come. Alana saw him a bit in the corner of her eye. He took his shoes off and didn’t have time to remove his tweed coat because she came up to him for a quick kiss. Clara didn’t seem to be alerted by him and kept eating without looking behind her shoulder.

‘Who do we have here?’ Hannibal said. He was talking to the little girl, and Alana didn’t realize so she was about to answer.

‘I’m Clara.’ She gazed at Hannibal skeptically. ‘I’m eating a Twinkie.’

Hannibal, as always, was apprehensive when it came to unnatural ingredients and artificial colorings.

Afterwards, Hannibal asked Clara what she wanted to do. She said that she liked to play outside, so Alana broke in their conversation and said that there was a park nearby.

‘Are there any swings?’ Clara asked.

‘I’m pretty sure there are some,’ Alana replied.

They dressed up and walked along the gravel path on Alana’s street. Clara skipped and sang to herself at a small distance from them. She wore a green sweater and running shoes. She said that she didn’t like green, that it looked like boring leaves and spinach. Hannibal asked her if she prefered purple, since her pants and tee-shirt were that color. She nodded. He seemed to read her very well; or at least, he knew how to speak to her.

While they walked, Alana’s phone buzzed, like when she got a text. She opened it and read.

‘What is it?’

‘My friend, her mom, texted me. She’s going to get her at ten instead of seven thirty.’

He took her hand. ‘I’ll stay.’

Clara, being very sociable, went to make sand castles with two little boys who were already playing. They watched her, since the other moms seemed to be busy talking with each other. Alana didn’t want some stupid boy to throw sand at Clara.

The other kids left, so Clara went to them.

‘Can you push me on the swing, please?!’ said Clara to Alana.

‘Of course,’ Alana said, following her.

It was a bit windy that day. Hannibal’s hair was completely uncooperative, Alana laughed a bit as his hair became undone.

‘Hannibal!’ yelled the little girl.

Hannibal’s eyes went far. He looked through everything. He seemed to have left. He froze at her words. Hearing a small voice say his name made him feel so cold and hungry. It wasn’t an emotional memory. It was the physical feeling on being tied with metal chains, too heavy to lift, too heavy for anything. He came back.

‘Yes, Clara?’

‘It’s your turn to push me.’

His pushes were much stronger and she went higher, higher.

‘You can touch the sky,’ he said to her.

Alana sat on the other swing.

‘No! I want to touch the moon.’

He pushed her again. ‘Not farther than that?’

‘Which planet is even more far?’ she wondered.

‘How about Neptune. It’s blue, like your eyes.’

Her hair became almost white with the sun shining toward her. ‘I want to go there,’ she squeaked.

‘You must come home after.’

For dinner, Alana made pesto spaghetti. She didn’t have anything else to do, so she took her time.

Hannibal was hilarious. He was sprawled on the floor of the living room, while Clara sat on his stomach. She wasn’t sure what their game was but it sounded very funny.

‘Alright Clara. Where is the plane taking you now?’ he asked, out of breath.

‘Um...’ she hesitated. ‘To China!’

‘Fine.’ So, he lifted her up above him.

‘That’s not high enough,’ she complained.

Alana didn’t see them for a moment, but they appeared in the kitchen. Clara sat on his shoulders while he walked around. She mimicked the sound of a plane’s engine, holding on to his head.

Sometimes, Alana wondered what the hell was Hannibal made of.

They ate dinner, and Alana worried that Clara wouldn’t eat any of her meal because it was green, but she saw Hannibal eating and complimenting Alana. He didn’t ask Clara to eat any of it, but it was as if his delighted look translated into orders.

‘What were you two playing earlier?’

The both glanced at each other. ‘A game,’ Clara mused.

Hannibal offered Alana to give her Goddaughter a bath. She said yes, and told him that she had a backpack with her toys. There were a few little boats. Minutes later, he sat on a stool next to the tub while she hummed and cleaned her boats.

‘Do you know any songs about boats?’ Hannibal enquired.

‘No. I wish I did.’

He took a little plastic cup and poured water on her frail shoulders.

‘I know one. It is in french, but it’s the story of a little sailboat going to the mediterranean sea.’ He started: ‘Il était un petit navire, qui n’avait jamais navigué, ohé-ohé.’

He sang it all, explaining each verse. At one point, Alana who was cleaning the dishes, got curious about a part of the song.

‘...pour savoir qui-qui serait mangé ohé-ohé.’ he paused, while she listened. ‘It means, they were all out of food so they needed to choose a sailor that would be eaten.’

‘Gross!’ she squealed. Hannibal laughed at that. Alana, on her side, frowned. It was just a song after all. But a strange song to sing to a child. The melody was cute, almost like a lullaby. It might have been an old song that was okay for children back in the days.

In the guest bedroom, Clara sat between her and Hannibal. She had brought two books from her house, one was The Little Red Riding Hood, which Alana despised and found completely annoying because she heard it billions of times. The other was Guess How Much I Love you, a story about hares. Hannibal took the first book very seriously, groaning at Clara when it came to the wolf part, but it didn’t seem to scare her. Alana envied this little girl. She was so free of everything, so irreproachable, everything was beautiful, everything was on the surface of a pond. She didn’t see beneath the water. She was blind and happy.

Alana read the hare story, maybe a tiny bit too monotonically. She fell asleep at around nine.

The couple went to read in the living room for a while. She guessed that he was reading an Ebook on his IPad. They sat in the dark, only with the glow of a small light for her magazine. She was thinking too much, analyzing, and she didn’t even get to the point of the article about the pope that she was reading. So she nudged him with her foot.

‘I want to ask you something.’

His attention went to her. ‘Ask away,’ he urged.

‘If I got pregnant, what would you do?’

He licked his lip. ‘Pregnant as in... I’m the father?’

‘If I were pregnant and you were the daddy, what would you do?’

He turned his IPad off and she expected him to answer, but instead, he asked, ‘Are you pregnant?’

‘No!’ she whispered, loudly. ‘You would smell it on me anyways, idiot. Stop answering me with questions.’

‘I would marry you,’ he responded.

She cocked her head to the side with a smirk. ‘Liar.’

‘I would marry you and we would live in Florence or Argentina. I promised myself as a young man to live with my beloved in a foreign country.’

‘...And you never got married,’ she mused.

‘No,’ he stated, simply.

There was a silence, but Hannibal knew she had something else to say.

‘What’s bothering you, my dear?’

She sighed. ‘You told me once that your sister died when you were little.’

He swallowed and nodded.

‘Well... Is it possible that a part of you died too when she passed?’

‘I could never answer that. It was tragic, but I’ve moved on.’

‘Does moving on include whispering a girl’s name when you sleep?’

 **  
** _She’s a part of me,_ he thought. _Mischa is always inside me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked it!!!   
> The french song is 'Il était un petit navire.' It's a really old french song that is now considered a lullaby for kids. Most parents shorten it, but when I was younger my grandma sang it to me before going to sleep, and I was like 'wtf grandma how am I gonna sleep now.' I think it was my first encounter with cannibalism. (Wow I just gave you a little snippet of what my childhood was like XD).
> 
> The book Guess How Much I Love You is a book by Sam McBratney. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	21. Fear you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feeling Alana never thought she could have toward him.

Hannibal came in his living room where Alana Bloom and Will Graham were sitting. Alana was frowning at Will, but Will looked down, looking confused and saddened. His face was usually very neutral, and he blinked allot. But right now he wasn’t blinking.

Hannibal gave Will a glass of white wine, but he gave Alana her beer. A small ‘thank you’ slipped out of her mouth, but Will said nothing, still staring down. He was maybe nervous in the presence of both him and Alana because of what was happening.

Alana had been living in Hannibal’s house six days a week. She still had her house and dog. However, she wasn’t so sure what to do with those things. Applesauce kept shedding wherever she went, leaving piles of hair around the house. She didn’t want to ask Will to take her, not because he would say no, he would obviously accept with joy, but because of the context, where she sort of hated him but not really.

And he still liked her. But not really.

How does one ask someone so antisocial and dissociative how they feel about someone? She had feelings for him. If she dug a hole in herself, she would find them. There were also many other things that she didn’t want to see. Will in jail, her own face crying in the car, Winston going home, all the suspicion, all the tragedy.

Abigail.

Why would Frederick Chilton kill Abigail Hobbs?

Alana crossed her legs on the Morris chair. She looked at the two men in front of her, both sitting inches from each other. They seemed to be waiting for her to talk.

So she did. ‘I sometimes think about the past.’

‘Which one?’ Will asked.

Hannibal looked at him a bit too intensively for her taste.

‘What do you mean ‘which one’?’ she snapped.

Will smiled. It amused him when she got flustered. ‘The one I remember or the one you think happened?’

She drank. ‘The one we all know happened.’

‘Where is this leading, Alana?’ Hannibal said.

Hannibal was really wondering what she was thinking about. She hadn’t spoken to him much since yesterday, and even less this morning.

‘It’s leading to how I, after working several years as a teacher and profiler for the FBI, still don’t understand how Dr. Frederick Chilton, as much as he was rude and ill-mannered, came to kill Abigail Hobbs.’

They both didn’t answer to that.

‘Also, we found her ear...’ she trailed off.

Will shook his head. ‘No... Alana... None of us want to go there.’

‘I’m curious on why,’ she snapped again.

She looked at Hannibal like a mother furious at her child.

‘Will, there is a path that we can take to put ourselves out of trouble. The path has an end, and it is called honesty.’

Alana placed her beer on the coffee table. Her gaze toned down into something worried and anxious, but not anticipating. _What the fuck are you talking about, Hannibal?_ she said in her head.

Half of her was waiting for a decent explanation to this. Half of her was completely terrified.

_It’s always him. It always goes straight back to him._

Will rubbed his hands together. He wasn't actually expecting to talk about this tonight, but since Dr. Bloom brought it up, it was the relatively appropriate moment. It was now or not at all. ‘Just in case you didn’t know, Abigail was an accessory to the crimes of her father, Garrett Jacob Hobbs,’ he stated.

She could not move. Hannibal saw her looking through him, like he was a clear crystal glass. He expected to see tears in her eyes, but there was nothing. If it would have been just him and her, he would have taken her to bed, since she seemed to be on the edge of physical shock.

_Tell me it wasn’t you. Tell me it wasn’t._

He did not tell her, but his name was Hannibal.

 **  
**Hannibal the cannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a short one.... I hope you still enjoy! xx


	22. Take you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana wakes up in a strange bed... and she doesn't feel like herself.
> 
> *yay for dark!alana*

‘Alana...’

The voice she was hearing was just a small whisper. She wasn’t sure if it was in her dream or in reality. She hoped all of this was a dream. Everything was blurry, her senses were slowly coming back to her, like she was coming back from death. She felt dead; she felt so hollow and empty. Her heart echoed in her mind. A gentle caressed her forehead, pushing strands of hair away. The hand was rough but delicate. The touch made her snap back to reality. A tiny bit of sunlight came through the dark blue curtains. She was now aware of her position. She lay on her stomach, wearing a wool cardigan over her shirt. Even with that, she was so cold and she trembled.

‘How are you feeling my dear?’ he whispered, keeping his hand on her head.

She closed her eyes again. ‘I’m cold,’ she breathed.

He got up from the chair that he was sitting on to take the duvet gathered at her feet and pulled it over her, tucking her in. He smoothed a hand on her before sitting down again, never taking his eyes off her.

‘Why Hannibal?’ she said a bit louder than earlier. ‘Why would you do that?’

He sighed. ‘Abigail told me what she couldn’t tell you. Don’t act as if you did not know that some of my methods are unorthodox. I had patients die while in therapy. Don’t ignore the facts, Alana.’ His voice was harsh, but still low.

She hadn’t moved since she’d woken up. She pretended not to take notice of what he’d just told her. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘No. You were hysteric, I had to drug you and perform a hypnosis on you. It was for your own good. Do not worry, I did not take advantage of you in any way, I simply calmed you down and put you to bed,’ he explained.

 _Of course you didn’t take advantage of me, why should you?_ she thought. ‘How long did I sleep?’

‘I put you in bed seven hours ago. You might have noticed that I bought a different bed. King.’

She sat up slowly and leaned against the pillows. It was truly much bigger than his other one. The covers were also different, but still matched the rest of the room. She didn’t know what he was trying to do. She looked at him quizzically.

‘I thought you wanted this,’ he quickly told her.

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you trying to buy me, Dr. Lecter?’

‘Do you fear me, Ms. Bloom?’

She had her answer. Because she did not fear him. The feeling she had felt wrong. From what she understood, Hannibal had helped her patient get rid of a body, have her come over by escorting her out of the psychiatric facility by saying he was her guardian, being aware that she was her father’s lure and telling none of that to her. She felt insulted. But at the same time protected.

Alana wanted to know where Abigail was. But she didn’t ask. She didn’t question Hannibal. She waited.

She unbuttoned her thick cardigan.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She took it off and threw her legs out of the bed. ‘I’ll go take a bath. Care to join me?’

A few moments later, they were sitting across each other in Hannibal’s bath. They didn’t speak for a very long time. Alana kept analyzing herself, doubting herself, wondering who she was. She didn’t feel like herself. Alana felt emotionally drained, not capable of compassion like she usually was, not capable of caring about what Hannibal was. The thought of cannibalism kept going through her mind, but it left as soon as it came, and she wondered about other things before it came back again and again. For all she knew, it didn’t matter. He was cleaning her feet right now and nothing mattered. She leaned on the side of the bath, almost lying down, but he sat straight, concentrating of her.

‘Thinking allot, are we?’ he said.

She smiled softly. ‘I’m analyzing myself as always.’

‘What do you find in the corners of your mind, širdelė?’

Darling, she translated. ‘I see... the first time.’

‘...Of what?’

‘The first time I fell for you,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t love you, but I wanted you.’

He put her foot back in the water. ‘Tell me, when was that?’

She looked down. ‘Five years ago.’

He remembered five years ago, the days when she wore her hair straight. She hadn’t aged a day.

‘Where was it?’

‘At the beach in Baltimore. We were at a crime scene. I saw you and it was the first time I’d seen you with your hair undone. You smiled at me and said, ‘Radiant on such a sad day, Ms. Bloom.’ And then, when everyone had left, even you, I went to the souvenir shop and bought a necklace with a starfish pendant. I wear it sometimes.’

His heart made a small ‘thump’ in his chest. ‘Alana,’ he said.

‘Hm?’

He put his hand around her ankle, climbing it higher to her thigh and touched her center unexpectedly. Alana writhed at his touch. She dug her nails on the ceramic of the bath and let a quiet lament out.

‘Take me there,’ he told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAHAHA I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE SOME MORE EXTREMELY NOT-CANON DARK ALANA


	23. Cry with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal only wishes he could cry with Alana.

Alana sprayed detergent on the huge metal counter of the kitchen. Everything smelled like bleach and vinegar. It was time for spring cleaning, according to Hannibal. She never followed such a tradition, but it must have been important to him because he was now sitting at the wooden counter with fancy silverware and silverware soap. He dipped a fork in a pot of water, scrubbed it with the weird polish and dried it with a cloth. After that, he looked at it in the light to make sure it was perfectly clean. Alana found him silly for doing that, but she didn’t say a word, knowing that this was how he was, hating everything ordinary. He could have been sitting on a couch with pop corn watching the game, but no, he needed something better to pass the time.

She didn’t really like cleaning, rarely doing it at her house, but she offered to help. He always enjoyed her company.

‘I’m going to kill Jack if I keep doing this,’ she said, nervously wiping the steal counter.

Hannibal turned his head to look at her. She wore a pair of blue jeans, his favorite, and a coral low cut cashmere sweater. She looked mesmerizing as always. ‘How so? By cleaning my kitchen?’

‘Well, Hannibal, if I keep sleeping with you, I’m betraying him. And now that I practically live here... He comes over to talk to you about your,’ she mimicked quotation marks ‘cannibal habits, and look who’s drinking a cocktail next to your harpsichord!’

He looked at her, amused. ‘Alana, what Jack thinks of us is not important to me. It shouldn’t be to you.’ He continued to inspect a silver plate.

‘I’m also hurting Will,’ she sighed. ‘Will is my friend. I want him to be my friend. But I still can’t forget that he tried to murder you.’

He took the pot of water, walked up to the sink and emptied it there.

‘I still don’t understand what you were going on about Jack,’ he told her.

She didn’t talk at first, folding the rag in four. He grew impatient after she didn’t respond to him within 30 seconds, so he touched her shoulder blade, encouraging her to speak. She sniffed.

He put his other hand on her shoulder and went behind her. She was crying. He made her cry.

‘My love,’ he whispers, next to her ear.

‘It’s just the cleaning stuff giving me allergies,’ she lied. After almost a week of feeling completely bland, even having a lack of sex-drive (they hadn’t had sex since the incident), she felt something welling in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it yearned to get out.

‘We both know it isn’t. You mustn’t hide your emotions. Tell me what is the matter,’ he pleaded, his left hand rubbing her stiff shoulder.

A tear trickled down her nose. ‘I feel trapped...’

‘Where are you trapped?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Between opinions. I’m doubting myself. I’m doubting you, Hannibal,’ she said in a shaky voice.

‘Would you like to go to a better place?’ he asked, sliding his hand to her heart.

She shook her head in desperation. ‘A place without Jack making me rethink my life choices? I have a list of people in my head who could be the Chesapeake Ripper and the list is narrowing, getting smaller every day I hear Jack refusing to have dinner with you. The list is narrowing to one, and I know who it’s going to be in the end. It’ll be Dr. Hannibal Lecter.’

‘Then why do you stay here, mylimas...? Why do you stay?’

The hand that was on her shoulder blade when down to her stomach, like an invitation. She pressed her back to him, leaning. The tear kept dripping down her jaw.

He wished to cry and mourn with her, but he couldn’t. The reasons he cried were rare and much different from the rest of humanity. He cried listening to Haendel, sometimes while composing. He cried for Mischa, but only because he wanted to write her name again, telling her, ‘M is for Mischa!’. He cried when he saw the paintings in the Louvre in France.

But he couldn’t, as much as he tried, cry with Alana. He did not pray, but hope she would be at his side at all times.

Alana ceased her crying, but she was very serious for the rest of the morning. She read a little bit while Hannibal went through the house with the vacuum and then with the mop. He looked at the cover of her book instead of asking her what it was since she had her headphones on. He overheard Stravinsky. The title said ‘The Communist Manifesto’ by Engels and Marx. He hoped it wasn’t giving her ideas.

He gave her mushroom tea before lunch, without her actually knowing what it was. She looked like she was still crying but she spoke normally as if nothing from that morning had happened. Her body was betraying her. Her eyes sparkled of water. She barely touched her lemon veal cutlets. It was instinct. For dinner, he decided that he would take her to the store and buy a whole chicken before her eyes and cook it with her to make her see that he wasn’t so bad after all.

Alana and Hannibal got out of the house, and before he opened the car door she pulled him down into a warm kiss. She licked his lower lip, trying to get him to go deeper. He was glad she was becoming normal again. A few people passed them while they kissed, and it did not stop her. He even made her dip backwards which made her laugh, and they resumed to go shopping for tonight.

Hannibal did not make love to her that night. He did not propose it, neither did she. It was just sort of forgotten about. They fell asleep on their sides of the huge bed. Maybe tomorrow they would make love and finally make use of this gigantic bed Alana made him buy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... I don't even know what that was? I was really tired when I wrote this.  
> I hope you liked it anyhow!
> 
> (Note: expect smut in the next chapter)


	24. Hold you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark and smutty. That's all.

They lay in the huge bed for two hours. First, they fell on their backs on either sides of the bed, covered in sweat, and they felt cold at the sudden air against their damp skin.

Dr. Bloom kept on smiling at herself. They few times she was glad with herself happened mostly with Hannibal...And the moments she found herself to be reckless were also with this terrible man that she subconsciously knew the truth about. He kept derivating her from the reality. He gave her tea that she never saw him prepare. It relaxed her, and she asked him what it was. He replied ‘herbs from my home village as a child. Grandmothers gave this to children when they were overly excited’. She frowned at him but always drank it up. The taste was not familiar. Weird lithuanian stuff. It calmed her. She was not aware of what else it could do. It was easy for Hannibal to manipulate her. Alana had a strong personality and he wondered when it would come out of her.

‘I’ve been craving things lately,’ she told him, staring at the ceiling.

‘Tell me about that.’

She turned herself around and got on her elbows. ‘Château de Tigné wine... I don’t like wine that much but I really like that one.’

‘I’ll arrange that if you’d like,’ he offered. He stretched his arm to remove a lock of hair from her face.

Hannibal constantly gazed upon her with pure adoration. Alana shied away when he did that. He did it then. She looked down. ‘I’d also like you to hold me for a while,’ she added.

‘Come here.’

She crawled to his chest and he held her against him protectively, letting nothing bad come close to her. For now.

He couldn’t promise that she would be safe. Not from him. No one was really safe from him. Human life meant nothing. There was a criteria he had for the people he could not kill. He could not kill anyone whom he loved. He loved a few people. I could not kill anyone who could be useful to him in any way. He couldn’t kill a child; never, ever again.

He did it once, officially, but felt as if he’d done it twice. He could never forgive himself for Abigail, what he took away from Will. It was true, he would have been a great father. Very paternal and loving. Sometimes, he found himself feeling paternal to Alana. She was his in a way. He tried not to own her, but he was so arrogant and felt like he owned everything. _You cannot own a person,_ he told himself.

After a long while, she squirmed in his arms, trying to push him on his back. He thought she was sleeping and having a dream, but when he finally understood, he obliged and she straddled him, moving her hair to one side. It was nighttime, but the faint light of the lamp in the corner of the room gave him a breathtaking view of her. She looked oppressing, evil. Alana roamed her hands on his body, seemingly containing herself. She was holding back. A wail even escaped her..

He touched her ribs. ‘May I ask what you are doing, my dear?’

‘Torturing you...’ she whispered.

His erection grew harder between her legs, but she did not take him in. She ground herself on him, making him realize that she was in charge. Her hands stopped and she bent down to bite one of his nipples as he thrust his hips toward her. He tried to change angles but she immediately refused him to enter her. She kissed her way up to his neck, the area where his jaw met his throat. Her tongue and lips teasing him was driving him insane.

Hannibal moved his hand from her ribs to between her legs, on her clitoris, making her claw the blankets and cry out on his skin.

‘I’m not liking this game of yours Alana,’ he warned her. He slid a finger inside her, imagining how wonderful she would feel around his cock.

‘I don’t like any of your games...’ he arched his index as a punishment. ‘But I still play them. I always win, Hannibal.’ she fell limp on him while he continued to thrust inside her, slowly.

She was becoming so good to him. No matter how strong and smart she was, she responded perfectly when he controlled her. The darkness in her was growing.

He grabbed her thigh and turned her around so that he was on top of her, still between her legs. Alana looked into his eyes, almost through them, full of passion. He loved her gaze that way. In them, he could also find lust, greed, ache, savageness. He put his arms under her, bringing her closer to him and kissing each of her breasts, then her. He kissed her deeply, tasting himself from earlier, but also something sweet, something he made her for dessert. He continued, exploring her mouth, making her more than turned on. Her hips bucked against his cock.

‘Now,’ she ordered.

So he did. He rammed himself in her, making her arch backwards and scream in blissful agony. ‘Who’s winning now?’ he whispered before biting her earlobe.

Alana let herself be dominated for the first thirty seconds but she unexpectedly flipped him over and rode him like she wanted.

‘Who’s winning now?’ she asked, scratching his bicep.

Hannibal tried so hard to hold himself from making a sound that would satisfy her, only groaning every time she took him in fully. Pleasure was starting to build up in her loins, so she took a step further by leaning back on her palms and rolling her hips.

‘I swear to god I will kill you one day, Hannibal,’ she promised.

She became so free and aggressive when talking during sex. It made him so glad.

He came before her and let her finish two thrusts later. After, he held her again. They fell asleep almost instantly.

She secretly hoped that he would be a bit more cooperative next time, or else she’ll have to tie him down or slap him, and that would be rude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Comments are always appreciated :D


	25. Need you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evidence explains.   
> Alana finally opens her eyes.

Alana sat down in her car, her own car, for the first time in weeks. She felt nostalgic, melancholic. Her hand felt numb from the shooting. She never really thanked Will for giving it to her. It was always in her bag. At work, shopping, eating at the restaurant, around Jack, around Will, around Hannibal.

About Hannibal... She told him she was going to visit a friend out of town. Just having a bit of air for the day. A simple day without drinking or working or talking about people ripping other people. She would have to come back eventually. It was all her fault. She was letting herself into Hannibal Lecter. There was something wrong with him and she needed to let go. But she needed him. She needed his intoxicating way of bringing her on edge, stopping, then continuing until she came. It wasn’t just about sex. He seemed to plan everything. Some nights, he left and brought her something to drink. Not every night. But those nights, she slept so soundly.

She’d known that for a long time. Alana knew in her guts that he was drugging her for whatever reason. If he thought she didn’t know, he was completely idiotic. So he knew she knew. Hannibal never did anything halfway, never did anything thoughtlessly. If she told that to Jack, if she brought everything back to him, Jack would assume he is the intelligent psychopath he was looking for. It was such an insulting term. He had nothing of a psychopath. He was a madman, filled with perversion and darkness and death.

She drove out of Baltimore.

Alana went to a place, she did not know what it was called but she went there once and she never forgot about it. She didn’t have a name for it. It was a field of rocks near a forest. One day, she climbed up there with Will. She did not climb down with him. They talked about Hannibal. He didn’t know him yet, but she told him about Dr. Lecter like he was some kind of God, curing everyone with his magic, helping, being an extraordinary man with no flaws. Will was suspicious. She didn’t know about his empathy disorder yet. Will did not really comment on what she said. He listened, quite fascinated.

She got out of her car, climbing the staircase made of stones. She needed to think. She used to think too much, and Will tried so very hard to get her mind off things.

Alana got so drunk with love and desire, drowning in Hannibal, or rather letting him drink her. She wanted him to kiss her ear and whisper things in his foreign language while touching her, making her arch and writhe, while she thanked the sky for this blessing. She wanted him to explain and translate an opera, holding her hand. In the beginning it was want. Now it was need.

The sky was dark and gray, however, there was an orange sun going down, down, down. It hovered her like a heavy cape, or like Hannibal’s body on her.

It cleared her mind and let her focus on the evidence. The evidence explains, Will often told her.

She got her IPod out of her pocket and plugged the earbuds in her ears. She shuffled and let the first song play. It was And the Waltz Goes On. She stood on a higher rock, thankfully wearing flat boots.

The ripper started ripping when the two men met. The two of them were a team, but who’s crimes were they working on? Accusing Chilton was delirious. It was so stupid, so blind. How could anyone do such a thing?

Hannibal was an excellent cook. The things he made were so spectacular it was almost ridiculous. What did he cook? Was the veal and pork he made ever actually animal? Most people would feel ill eating human flesh. Hannibal didn’t mind, he did it often and practically religiously.

Alana’s heart ached thinking about that. She never thought about Hannibal Lecter in this way.

He had patients die while in therapy. People have died. Valuable human lives. Then... there was Will Graham, going to jail. Freddie Lounds splayed the obvious in front of her. She made her see. But she also faked her death. We’re all pathological in our own ways. Well, Freddie was indeed very pathological. She was also disgustingly rude.

Look at it, Alana. Look at everything. It’s right under your nose. It’s next to you when you sleep.

She felt Will’s presence behind her, but he wasn’t there. He supported her. There is always going to be his hand on her back. He didn’t lose faith in her.

But she couldn’t stop having feelings for him.

Will received Alana right after Margot came over. She hugged him and asked him for a beer. They sat on the couch with Winston and the smallest dog named Daisy. It was weird. She took her boots off and everything, curling up next to Winston. Alana wasn’t sure if she was being unfaithful, if this was okay. They watched TV for a bit. Will looked so broken and damaged. She once told him that he wasn’t broken. He was now, for sure. They stayed silent for an entire hour, watching a comedy TV series. They did not laugh. Nothing was funny right now. At one point, Will put his arm over the back pillow behind her. She said nothing. He put his hand on her neck, and she still didn’t speak up. He did move closer to her. Alana felt good, but this was so strange and unusual. Will’s house was so warm and comforting, disorganized but everything seemed to have its place. She left, thanking him.

‘Take care,’ he said to her.

Alana came back to Baltimore, to the safety of a serial killer’s house. He had not came back from his office yet, she she went to lie down and unwillingly fell asleep. She didn’t know what she would tell him when he came back home. Probably nothing. Or maybe she’d shoot him.

She woke up weeping, still alone. She wasn’t too sure why she was crying.

Alana could not let herself be controlled by this monster she’d fallen in love with. But she didn’t want to. So she took a random piece of frozen meat from his freezer, drove to the FBI headquarters, saw that Price and Zeller weren’t there, so she snuck in the lab to run tests on the meat. Expecting the screen to type ‘pork’, her jaw dropped.

The evidence.

 **  
**Beverly Katz.


	26. Run away from you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana runs away from Hannibal. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't realize, I use some phrases and quotes that are in the show, but also in the books and movies. Don't get mad!!! I'm not trying to copy or anything, it's just to create parallels.  
> Comments are always nice :)  
> Thanks for reading.

Alana tried to keep calm the next day. It was Sunday, so none of them worked. Hannibal got up early as usual, selecting his outfit of the day with care. She woke up as he put on a light gray sweater over a white dress shirt. His hair was not done yet. She wondered if she was the only one who ever saw his hair this messy. In front of the mirror, he buttoned it up to the last button, and then changed his mind, undoing it.

‘Do the last one,’ she suggested, putting a pillow under head. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see that she had been looking at him.

He did what she told him to. ‘You weren’t here when I came home last night. Where have you been wandering?’ he asked.

He also realized last night she put on a pajama, a simple raglan shirt with shorts. ‘I don’t wander, Hannibal. I...Go out and think. Learn things about myself. Alone.’

He tied the cuffs of his sleeves. ‘You have always seemed like a lonely person. You didn’t talk to anyone in class when you were studying.’ He stomped to the bathroom, trying to slick his hair back.

She turned around on her stomach, burying her face in the pillow, so very angry with herself.

A few minutes later, the weight on the bed shifted and a hand went upon her lower back. _I’ve been very unfaithful to you, my love,_ she wanted to tell him. She repeated to herself that it was only the nape of her neck, in a very friendly matter. She tried so very hard to convince herself that Hannibal was not her love, he was dangerous, and she could stop this whenever and however she wanted. She could kill him. No. She let that thought pass in the back of her head and grow in her subconscious.

‘Alana, is something bothering you?’ he said. His voice... She never wanted to abandon his voice she adored so much.

She waited to answer. Her position changed under his touch. She flipped over to see him. She put one of her legs over his lap. ‘It’s hard to put it in words, isn’t it, Dr. Lecter?’ she said, sighing.

He raised his eyebrows.

Alana covered her face in desperation. ‘Oh God no, please not the professional scold...’

He chuckled darkly. ‘Hungry?’ he asked. She always went all frustrated when she was hungry.

‘No!’ she yelled, sitting up straight. ‘I mean... No thanks. I’ll have coffee. I’m really not in the mood for... food.’

She lost eye contact with him looking down, frowning. Hannibal contemplated her face for a while and brushed her cheek before getting up and walking away. In the kitchen he selected the jar that was tagged ‘Cambria’. He measured it for him and her, evening the measuring cup with a sharp knife. He measured everything, like a perfect physician. He might have been compared to Josef Mengele, but Hannibal had a tiny bit more mercy than he did. Or did he? He was so affectionate, tender and delicate, even when he bit her to draw blood, leaving bruises on her legs, sinking his nails in the skin of her back when he finished inside of her, he always looked up with questioning eyes, if she said no or stop, he stopped. Usually. Sometimes he didn’t. But she never cried to him, ‘if you’d love me, you’d stop.’

He would never hurt her for the purpose of destroying her.

When she was in pain, he soothed her.

She came in the kitchen a couple of minutes later wearing a simple jean dress. She came up to him and he kissed her forehead. She was still seemingly confused and maybe a little bit traumatized.

‘I know when you lie, Ms. Bloom.’

She leaned on the steel counter. ‘Why would I lie to you?’ she asked.

He poured the coffee in two glass cups, stirring in sugar for Alana. He passed it to her. ‘I think you’re hiding something.’

 _Look who’s talking_ , she said to herself. ‘It’s strange isn’t it?’ she said suddenly.

He took a sip of his coffee. ‘What, my dear?’

 _The coffee isn’t people_ , she thought. ‘Everything.’

Will and Hannibal told her part of the truth. Hannibal hid Nick Boyle’s body with Abigail for completely reasonable reasons. She knew that and she was surprisingly okay with it. ‘Tell me what’s on your mind.’

She almost cut him off. ‘Abel Gideon disappeared the night we had sex. That’s strange isn’t it? And you gave me wine? I slept extremely well that night.’

Hannibal cocked his head without responding to her.

She placed her coffee on the counter. ‘I know you drug me at night, Hannibal. I’m not stupid,’ she snapped.

He smiled and cupped her head gently. ‘You are the most intelligent person I know, Alana.’ _But your emotions are betraying you._

His hand went to the side of her head, tangling in her hair. ‘If I ask you something.... Will you lie to me?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her face looked tormented. She pressed her hand on his that remained on her temple. ‘Have you ever lied to me in the past?’ she asked.

‘Many more times than I could count,’ he confirmed.

She was going to cry, but held back the tears. ‘I’m going to be honest with you. I’m in love with you. I’ve never been in love before.’ She pushed his hand away. ‘Why, Hannibal? Why did it have to be you?’

‘It didn’t have to be me, mylimas.’

They had angry sex around 11:00am, fully dressed, on the sofa. She refused to look at him while he kneeled in front of her, driving in her aggressively. Only her underwear had been removed and her dressed was halfway undone to give Hannibal access to her breasts. He secured one of his arms around her waist and his opposite hand under her shirt. At first she was recluant and just wanted to get over it, but as his pace quickened, she moaned loudly, wrapped a leg around his hip and threw her head back.

‘Tell me, Alana...’ he thrust into her once violently. ‘Tell me... Would you ever say to me, ‘Stop. If you’d love me you’d stop’?’

She screamed a short yelp. ‘I’d say that... And I’d slap you,’ she whispered, still not looking at him.

‘Aren’t you feisty?’ he groaned before kissing her neck. Alana arched against him and, as if to keep him close to her, tightened around his cock while he ejaculated. She kept doing this. It was becoming a habit; fucking with a killer. She didn’t even feel bad about it. She was so very glad and liberated.

_Stay down to earth, Alana._

The gravity of the situation was so intense. She had to let go. It could all go away, only if she let it leave her.

_It can never leave you. You’ve got to leave it. Now._

Around three, Hannibal left to get the wine for dinner. He gave her some beer after lunch and she took a sip in front of him, smiled and walked away to the bedroom. She then obviously spit it out and brushed her teeth.

Alana texted Will.

Hey.

Alana? What is it?

Can’t I just text you randomly?

Sure. Sorry.

I need your help.

What for?

Don’t be mad, please.

I won’t be mad. You’ve helped me for such a long time, I think I should return the favor.

True.

So, what is it?

Hannibal has been drugging me.

Don’t say anything else. Come over here.

She held her breath for five seconds while he was typing, and finally breathed out. She got off the arm chair and grabbed her biggest purse, the leather one. She took the gun from her smaller bag and put it in. Even if she knew Will, she didn’t trust him enough. She took two change of clothing and pajamas, a small bag of toiletries and zipped everything up. She put a light coat on slipped in her boots.

_This is only temporary. I’m not running away._

_I’m not..._

_Running away._

This was not going to be her life. Hannibal...

_No._

In her head, Hannibal Lecter was the perfect man. In her head, he wasn’t really a killer. She thought it would change.

Alana couldn’t think about that for the moment. She wanted to run off for a few days. Not at her house, she couldn’t bare being alone in a time like this.

Arriving at Will’s house, she saw that he was working on his fishing baits.

‘Don’t let me bother you. I’ll just rest on the couch for a little while.’

Will took her coat and followed her to the couch. ‘Don’t you want to talk about anything?’

She lay down and closed her eyes. ‘No... Just... Harbor me.’

He went back to his baits on his desk. He made one with two blue feathers and a white one, tying them together. He usually gave the bate a name while fishing, but he named this one Alana. He would use it for his first fishing trip of the year.

And he thought for a moment.

He looked at Alana and realized how much he cared for her even after all the burden and melancholy that had happened.

Hannibal Lecter was going to have to die, one way or another.


	27. Sleep with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana makes her choice.

It was him or everyone else.

Alana Bloom had a choice.

She called Jack to tell him she was sick today. Hannibal had taken no attempts to call her or contact her in any way. She was still at Will’s house, the next morning, and he’d already left, leaving a note on the counter.

_I’m heading for work. Take whatever you want in the fridge, and don’t bother about the dogs, they’re calm all day. I’ll come back at around six, if you’re still here._

_I’m not saying you should take him._

_But you should._

_Will_

She contemplated that for a long time. Take him? Meaning to take him down? No way. If she shot him, her life would need to depend on it. And she wouldn’t even do it for killing, she’d just shoot him in the knee or shoulder. And she would probably attend to his wounds before doing anything. Alana had always known that her heart was a big problem in her life. Too big, too much space in it. She couldn’t help but have mercy and heart for everyone. _What a stupid, stupid girl you’ve been._

Alana dressed up and combed her hair an hour after waking up. She attempted to apply some makeup on to at least feel a bit better about herself, but at the time she was going to put some mascara on, she completely lost it and broke into tears. She felt boneless and drained, like after giving blood, but more. Her heart said no, her mind said yes. He would have to spend the entire rest of his life in jail, stuck between dangerous and crazy criminals, rapists, sadists, torturers.

Was Hannibal even capable of sadism? Did he ever hurt anyone or did he take care of his victims like he took care of her?

The night before, Will became so emotional. She told him that she had inspected and analyzed meat from the freezer, and confirmed to him that it was indeed human, Beverly Katz’s meat, a part of her leg. Will told her everything. The manipulations, the injected hallucinations, the framing and the framing Will was doing in return, except that in Will’s opinion, he was doing Hannibal and everyone else a favor. An extremely bitter favor.

Alana always collected herself in a time like this. What was a time like this? A man, a friend, a mentor, a colleague, a lover was a dangerous criminal harvesting and eating human organs? Why, why, why, why, why....

It repeated in her mind. Why?

She sat against the wall of Will’s bathroom for a few hours. There was nothing to lose, but at the same time, everything. She could get over Hannibal Lecter. She could find herself another man, live, continue being a psychiatrist, have two kids, go to Cuba every summer.

The problem was, to her, Hannibal was almost not even a man. He was so unhuman in so many different ways. He couldn’t possibly be a person. He was an angel, a fallen angel. No...

He was satan. He deserved every single suffering he would get in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. She wished that it was still Frederick Chilton in charge, so he could be a fucking asshole to him, humiliate him.

If she ran off with Dr. Lecter, she would leave behind too many things, let too many lives down.

If she told everyone what she knew, she would be a hero, but she would lose something irreplaceable.

Alana followed her instinct.

Around five, Hannibal came home. He knew where Alana was. She was safe, at Will’s house. She would probably come back home soon enough. He knew just because. No one told him. Hannibal always knew what everyone was up to. But as he walked the steps up to his front door, he found a note stuck to his door and inhaled the scent of where he was standing. A hint of cherry blossoms, but mostly the scent of nervosity.

_My love._

_Meet me where I first wanted you. I’m sitting there right now._

_B._

He folded it back and put in in the pocket of his coat. There was a hesitation in her handwriting. Her hand had been trembling. If he had been behind her as she printed her words, he would have soothed her. But there was no one at her side if he wasn’t there.

He drove to the beach, a keen suspicious, but not too much. As he parked, a small silhouette in a red coat stood, the wind taking her hair aside. His steps were careful and slow, leaving prints in the sand, and when he was only a foot away from her, she twirled around, locking her eyes with his. She blinked away her tears.

‘Alana. You... wanted to speak to me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

He looked down at her, considerate. He slowly put his arms around her, embracing her. He kissed her hair, her cheeks, her temples, her ears. ‘There is no need, mylimasis.’ He nuzzled her hair for a moment. ‘I want to have you next to me. I want to hold you. Please come home,’ he told her.

She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

Alana tried so very hard to leave every single ounce of her grief and love on that beach when they walked away, but it held on tight to her and it just wouldn’t let go. And that hurt, so, so very much.

They ripped each other’s clothes off, like on the very first night, full of passion and need. He kissed his way down her, then back up, pressing himself on her thigh.

‘Can you feel my need for you?’ he asked before biting her lip.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. ‘Sleep with me, Hannibal.’ he kissed her forcefully. ‘Make love to me.’

_One more time._

  
Secretly, he knew. Hannibal Lecter always knew. And he made the best of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY GUYS  
> But this is not the last chapter, and I'm writing it straight after this one to catch up on 823freckles, who is already at chapter 28 waaaah.


	28. Kill you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Bloom would be the exception.  
> (My take on the scene where Alana finds Hannibal)

Alana had told Will to release the confirmation of Hannibal being the Chesapeake a day later.

With all the mind-reading talents that Hannibal Lecter possessed, nothing could beat Alana Bloom’s persuasion and courage. It became so easy in the end to play the game with Hannibal. All she had to do was act as careless and dark as possible. Careless by not saying a word more about her suspicions. Dark by agreeing with him, but not too much. She said to Will, a day more. Leave me one last day. She didn’t expect what was going to happen.

Before preparing dinner, she asked Hannibal to play her Aria Goldberg Variations. He rolled his sleeves, showing his horrendous scars, and even though she didn’t forget what he was, she thought with the same empathy as always, that he did not deserve them. No one deserved to bleed out.

Tears coming out of her eyes as he hit the first note with grace felt like blood. Who was she giving this blood to? Him? No... He had blood all over his hands.

He continued gracefully, as another tear fell out of her eye. She watched from the sofa. He probably noticed how she’d kept her purse near her. It would happen at any moment. Maybe Hannibal was going to kill her tonight. Maybe he would. He could if he wanted to. If he was the one who’d killed Abigail, the young girl he loved so much and teared up at the mention of her name.

Hannibal ripped.

And then he sat at his harpsichord to compose a slow waltz.

Hannibal ripped again.

And then he tucked Alana’s head under his chin, whispering that he loved her.

Hannibal ripped continuously.

And he drew scenes from the greek mythology.

A passionate, gently, respectable, courteous, charismatic monster.

Half-angel, half-devil. His name sounded so evil and would probably become famous.

If he killed her, he would kill her the same way he kissed her for the first time. Hesitantly, almost asking permission, then snapping her neck of slitting her throat in an almost calm and tender manner. His hands would travel along her vulnerable, still warm corpse, laying her on the cold bed of his floor. He wouldn’t eat her, she thought. But he would have to honor her in some way. Alana couldn’t think of how.

When he was done, he looked over at her. She smiled a bit recluant.

Any moment.

He walked to her and sat by her, putting his arm around her frail shoulders.

She took his other arm, inspecting his wrists, the inside of them. The scar was raised, a light pink. She touched it, reminding herself that this was the last time she would see them. Hannibal bent by the side of her head and took deep breaths there, distracting her, making her lean into his touch.

‘When you wake up it will all be over, mylimas,’ he whispered.

Something stung her arm, a needle, and she fell backwards, asleep.

Jack came.

He beat him up, not enough to kill him, but he was definitively unconscious.

Hannibal Lecter was so unsure about everything in that moment. Other members of the FBI were probably going to be coming along. He didn’t have the strength to put all of them down. He miscalculated. For the first time in years, he was uncertain. Not afraid. Hannibal Lecter never feared anything simply because he made his fears fear him.

He walked away from the counter, bloody, his nose broken, two knives in hand, shaking. His heart was not only loud, it was also beating very fast.

His mind shifted to his poor Alana, unconscious in the living room. There was not a single sound. The noiselessness bothered him so very much.

 _Plan B_ , he thought, only too slow.

Steps came.

He missed the silence after all.

The short, thin woman that was Alana Bloom appeared pointing a gun directly at him. From her point of view, it must have been on his forehead.

Alana flinched, only barely. The immense disgust she felt in her stomach made her want to close her eyes. She never saw Hannibal like this. But her hand didn’t drop. She was still drowsy from the sedative he gave her, but she was strong enough to keep her mind straight.

He looked regretful, bitter, almost despising himself. He looked at her and dropped the knives, showing that he was not a danger. It was the least he could do. Alana only heard the ‘cling’ of the metal, because her vision started to blur with salty water.

‘Why, Hannibal? Why?’ she said, her voice trembling.

There were billions and billions of answers to that questions.

He cleared his voice. ‘For Mischa...As well as many other things.’

She sniffled. ‘What... What was so wrong with...Mischa? Can you tell me that, at least?’

He took a step toward her, but he was still far.

‘Did you eat her?’ she asked, taking a step backwards. ‘Please don’t get close to me.’

Those words stabbed him. ‘I was fed my sister. There was nothing wrong with her. There is nothing wrong with dying, Alana,’ he told her.

‘Dying is one thing, Hannibal. Killing is another. You’re going to have to pay for what you did.’

He smiled, showing bloody teeth, and laughed dryly. ‘I won’t pay. I will never pay,’ he stated.

Another voice spoke up, even making Alana jump. ‘You’ll pay with every single bone in your body, Dr. Lecter.’

Will Graham arrived, taking his glasses off. He came behind Alana, putting a hand on her back. Alana looked at him.

‘Do it,’ he whispered to her.

She looked back at Hannibal and started crying. ‘No,’ she squealed.

Hannibal knew she was incapable of doing such a thing. Any type of psychologist, psychiatrist, psychoanalyst would murder in self-defense or in need. Dr. Bloom would be the exception.

  
And she didn’t. She did not kill Dr. Lecter. Not that night. Not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS SERIES IS KILLING ME SERIOUSLY.


	29. Dream of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can never touch her ever again.

The first few nights, she feared of dying. Alana feared not making the right choice. She wanted to sink into her mattress and stay trapped in her bed. Applesauce lay by her at all times, sometimes sniffing her hand to check if she was okay. Was the word ‘okay’ even applicable in this situation? There were no words, she realized on the second day of Hannibal Lecter’s arrest. She had known this man for the last 16 years of her life and now, she would have to learn to live without him. Her eyes sometimes wandered over her ceiling, but the entire world was too terrible to look at. Alana stirred, pulled the blankets over her head and tried not to notice the lack of human contact. Her bed, her own bed felt empty and cold.

Will came over on the second day. He sat at her bedside. First, she ignored him, even when he said hi and asked about her day. Then she felt his shadow look over her, and the creak of the chair as he sat down. Applesauce came to him to greet him. Will cooed to the dog for a moment, but then remembered why he came here. He came to bury their friend. When Will referred it as a burial, Alana got out of bed and slapped him weakly.

‘I’m not burying Hannibal,’ she said as he caught her wrist before she hit him again.

She went back to her bed, falling on it diagonally.

Will took the covers and put them over her. He didn’t smooth them out like Hannibal would do, but he tucked the fabric underneath her, like a child. She thought Will would make a good father.

But the didn’t dream of Will on the third night.

She dreamed of Hannibal.

His hands roamed over her body.

His left hand paused on her chest, feeling her heart.

He bit her neck, drawing blood.

And with the same mouth, he kissed her forcefully, pulling her to him, bringing her in his insanity.

He loved her with his touch, but also with his words. In her dream, he kept calling her, my love, my love. He told her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her.

The sequence stopped, and she heard the sound of the harpsichord. She sat on his lap, her legs on one side, her arm around his broad shoulder. He played for her Prelude in C Minor, her favourite. They were both serious and concentrating, one appreciating the performance of the player, the other practically kneeling in front of the composer out of adoration as if he was a king.

In her dream, she didn’t see the Hannibal she didn’t want to see. She didn’t see the layer of calamity that was the true person he was.

On his side, Hannibal Lecter lay in the temporary prison cell, on the dull bed, humming a joyous tune.

On the third night he dreamt not about Alana Bloom, but the very idea of her, what she was, or rather who she was. In his dream there was her scent minus the perfume, only her. There was cerulean blue, reminding him of her eyes. There were bells of a church, mimicking her voice. He did not feel or touch anything in the dream. He would never touch her again. That thought made Hannibal cringe in his dream. There were millions and millions of things to touch in this world but he was now confined to touch rough walls made of concrete.

If he could have Alana in front of him for just a minute, he would tell her, ‘My dear Alana, this is awfully interesting. It brings me back to a time where I was shivering in the cold of Lithuania wearing chains around my ankles, sipping on broth made of my sister’s bones.’ Those words would torture her. Someone might find her dead in her house with her gun in hand.

He woke up.

In court, Hannibal seemed normal. He looked over at the immense crowd of people jabbering, sketching, staring, and then there was a familiar redhead, discreetly taking pictures with her cellphone. Rude as always.

When everyone sat down and it was Hannibal Lecter’s turn to speak, he closed his eyes for a long moment.

He displayed, rather than admit, to killing many, many people. He stated the years along with the full names and occupation, but omitted the method of murder.

Alana shuddered when he spoke of the victims he killed while he was teaching her at John Hopkins.

He did not admit to murdering Abigail.

Will frowned, wondering why.

Many people wondered why. Zeller, Price, Freddie, Jack, several FBI agents.

Alana didn’t really listen. Everything she heard was like strange vibrations. She didn’t even look to see what suit Hannibal was wearing. When it was her turn to talk, all she said was, ‘I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’

Hannibal’s lawyer spoke up. ‘Dr. Bloom, were you and Dr. Lecter romantically involved while he was committing crimes? If yes, please give us an insight on the relationship you have.’

She had prepared herself with that question, but at the moment he finished talking, she started breathing quickly and feeling faint, almost falling off her chair. She did not answer any other questions that day.

Hannibal Lecter had never felt the pain of someone else. Now he did, and it was more powerful than ever.

When the trial ended, Hannibal was placed in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane for life. The first thing he did when arriving in his prison cell, was asking for a pen and a paper to write.

_Alana._

_How long is a day without light? I keep thinking about our hours spent together and regret being here. Here I have no light. By light I do not mean the spark of a fire, I do not mean the sunshine or a lamp. I mean you. I told you once that you were the light in this darkness. I suppose I was my own darkness. You took me away from myself and I can not thank you enough for that, mylimasis._

_There is a time to live and a time to die. You could say that this is my suicide note, because there must not be much of a difference between sitting here and being in a grave._

_How are you feeling at this time? Have you gone back home? I’ve heard that my entire house is considered a crime scene. How’s Jack? I hope I didn’t ruin him too much. At the same time, I hope I did. The FBI could use a better agent-in-charge. Have you started working again? If so, I’m giving you permission to have all of my notebooks which I’ve accumulated throughout my career. You deserve them, you bright girl. Do not dissapoint me. I’ll watch you from the dungeon where I now spend my days. Some of my methods are rather practical. Others, you will not approve of. Maybe you will shed a tear reading them._

_Most of all, I write this to apologize._

_My love._

_Do not cry._

_Come for me in need. I’m always waiting. One day, we might accidentally touch, and if that day comes I will cherish it forever._

_Do not cry, I plead you. There is no need._

_Don’t hurt yourself that way. And remember what I am._

_They call me an intelligent psychopath. Is that your diagnosis, Ms. Bloom?_

_Your’s,_

_H._

Alana ripped the page in a thousand pieces and burnt them in her fireplace before pouring herself a beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY GUYS DON'T FUCKING WORRY  
> DON'T  
> This is not the end. There will be an epilogue tomorrow.
> 
> PS: I'm also going to design a cover for my fic, woohoo!


	30. Les vertiges de la vie: Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been five years and Dr. Bloom has recovered post-traumatic stress disorder. She needs closure with a Doctor she used to know, but she doesn't get exactly what she wants.  
> And as my summary says, you can only learn so much and live.  
> *cries a little bit*

It’s been five years.

Five years, two months and six days.

A reputed doctor walked through the halls of a mental institution in west Virginia. She had a coffee in hand, and smiled at the people she knows. Everyone knows her. She took hopeless cases of schizophrenics, bipolars, psychotic depression, difficult teenagers, rape victims, family trauma; everything that no one wants. She had methods, but didn’t talk about them very much. Younger doctors questioned her on how she treated schizophrenics who had extremely vivid hallucinations. Some older doctors asked her how she dealt with multiple personality disorder.

Alana Bloom told them with a sarcastic voice that her methods are unorthodox.

They laughed it away, but it’s true.

She told them the truth.

She drove to the headquarters of the FBI. She knew her way around and walked to the main lab. She saw a familiar face who should be with another person, but no one else she knows is around.

Zeller shaked her hand and hugged her, asking her how she was doing. He informed her that Price still worked here, but he was on a vacation. At least that hadn’t changed.

The paint on the walls were different. There were more potted plants. She almost lost herself because of the color change.

Alana didn’t go see Will Graham in his lecture hall because she saw him every week, almost. She didn’t become his psychiatrist or anything like that, but they met up often. He wasn’t a long lost friend, and she was grateful for that. She went to see Jack, out of politeness. She hadn’t really missed their disputes.

On her way out, she passed Will.

‘It’s... funny to see you here,’ he told her.

She smiled. ‘It feels funny to be here. I’m heading to the Baltimore state. You want to go do something with the dogs later?’

‘Sure, that would be nice.’

She patted him on the shoulder. ‘Cool. Text me.’

As she walked away, Will shouted at her, ‘Good luck, Alana!’

She drove listening to the weather on the radio, just like any other day, calm, relaxed, seeing streets she was not used to see anymore. Arriving near the hospital, she started growing anxious, wondering if this really was such a good idea. It was. She was sure. She parked herself in front, and before getting out of the car, she checked herself in the mirror.

The road to the front door seemed so long. Too long. It weighed on her chest like a rock. Her large purse seemed light in opposition. Maybe the heels weren’t helping.

She checked herself in as a prison guard walked her down, down, down, down, so low Alana worried it wouldn’t end.

The young man had a girl’s voice. ‘You don’t step over the black line, you don’t touch the bars, you don’t give him anything sharp like metal or plastic, you don’t give him anything that is food or that could contain anything suspicious, you don’t touch him...’ he jumped off the last step. ‘Actually, you don’t do anything. Don’t even look at him in the eye, he’ll slice you up with them, no kidding,’ he added.

Alana rolled her eyes while he wasn’t looking. ‘I’ve been here about fifty times, I know the drill,’ she assured him.

They walked through several doors making beeping noises marking their passage.

Alana stopped when she was at the other end of the hall. She was told that he was in the last cell. It made her so very nervous that she had to walk for so long. The suspense was killing her.

Right when she arrived by the chair that was assigned to her, she heard his voice.

‘Good afternoon Ms. Bloom.’

She took a deep breath and sat down. Their gaze met. ‘Hello Hannibal.’

He was wearing white pants and a white t-shirt with the number B1329-0. That was what he was now. He was facing her, lowering his book to his lap. She didn’t catch the title, but it was old. He looked different. His hair was longer, strands of it going over his eyebrows. He was also perhaps thinner.

‘I’ve been reading your... articles. Tell me Alana, what have you found interesting in those notebooks I gave you?’ he asked.

She crossed her legs and placed her hands on her bent knee. ‘I read about what you’ve done to Will Graham. That book was locked with a key that I couldn’t find anywhere. I broke the lock with a hammer.’

He smiled very slightly. His eyes went up and down her body. He noticed that she was also thinner, maybe because he wasn’t there to feed her. She was wearing a white blouse with a black cardigan. She’d lost her passion for color, perhaps. She wore an equally black skirt and cream colored heels. Her hair was the same chocolate brown, and instead of being curled, it was a little bit wavy. She looked the same, but different. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

‘You weren’t supposed to read it. Did you like it?’ he asked.

‘No.’

He gave her a scold.

‘But... I use the same drugs you used for Abigail on trauma victims. It’s like a truth serum. They say everything in detail. Nothing to hide.’

He smiled at her darkness.

‘Also, telling some of my patients that it’s okay to want to die has been interesting. Not so much for their well-being, but their reaction is fascinating,’ she told him.

‘Has anyone died yet?’

‘No.’

He took his book and placed it on the table where several drawings and sketches were displayed.

‘My dear Alana... Have you been experimenting?’

Alana shifted in her seat. ‘I’m writing a book. When it’s published I’ll leave the country,’ she said, roughly.

‘Will you publish it anonymously? I hope so for your sake.’

She frowned. ‘I don’t know yet. I was thinking of publishing it under your name, but... that would be reckless. No one knows I’m writing it, not even Will.’

‘And you came all the way here to tell me? Why me?’ he asked.

‘Because you’re the one who invented those methods, Hannibal! You’re like a fucking nazi doctor! Who’s the lower race for you? Everyone else? Is everyone else a pig? Is that why you ate them? Is no one worth living except for you?’ she said, furiously.

Hannibal looked concerned and leaned forward. Her rudeness didn't really bother him anymore. She mumbled ‘sorry’ but it couldn’t be heard. He only read it on her lips. She ran a hand through her hair, waiting for him to say something. ‘Do you feel eyes moving over your body, mylimasis? Do you sometimes think of me at night, without daring to touch yourself out of shame that you let yourself be lied to by me, by everyone? Do you think I saw you as a pig? Was there ever one moment where I cut you up to make pie? No. No, Alana. You want me to think that everyone in the world is a pig because you don’t want to admit that you are starting to think like me. You’re... becoming me, somehow,’ he told her.

She blinked back tears, looking away, far away.

Hannibal stood up and walked to the bars. ‘Is that why you’re leaving? Is this goodbye?’

She smiled looking back at him. ‘It doesn’t have to be,’ she murmured.

He held onto the bars. ‘What do you mean by that?’

She cocked her head, frowning about his question. ‘Well... I don’t speak lithuanian.’

That was what had changed. Alana had grown dark. She was feeling emotions that she wasn’t used to feeling. It overwhelmed her. She didn’t know what to do with her thoughts except write about them and analyze them.

She spoke up again. ‘I sometimes think... that I’m so alone now. I spend allot of time with Will, but he’s so lonely too. He’s unstable. He’ll always be scarred because of you. I can’t forgive you for that. But I’m not unstable, Hannibal. You are the most puzzling human being I know. I want you to... be with me. I need a person like you. I need...You.’

‘Are you admitting your feelings, Alana?’

She blushed.

‘I’m labeled as an intelligent psychopath. Is that what I am?’

She uncrossed her legs but kept them together. ‘No. You aren’t that ordinary.’

He smiled again. ‘Did you cry the night I sent you the letter?’

She shook her head. ‘I was angry. With you mostly. I wanted something that I couldn’t have...’ she replied.

‘What did you want?’ he asked. He had so many questions.

She smiled. ‘I... I wanted you to make me a child. Not because I wanted children, but I wanted to see at least a piece of you every day. Maybe I still want that, actually,’ she answered, nostalgic.

Alana stood up.

He placed himself closer to the bars. ‘My love, I want you to listen very, very carefully. Can you do that for me?’ he said in a low voice.

She approached him, passing the forbidden black line. ‘I’m all ears.’

Alana looked at him curiously.

‘Come closer,’ he ordered, still in a low voice.

He touched her. He put his hands on her waist for her to get as close as possible. And he said it. ‘Jei vykdote, I bus sugauti jums.’

Alana had absolutely no idea what it meant, but she wouldn’t forget it. She registered it like an important information.

She kissed him.

She had not kissed a single person on the lips for five entire years. She simply pressed her lips to his, gently.

‘Ma’am!’ one of the guards screamed. ‘Ma’am, step AWAY from the bars! This man is extremely dangerous!’

Hannibal leaned into the kiss and bit her lip to make her bleed, at her great happiness. She pulled away and grinned. Blood showed on the top of her lips, and two guards ran to grab her arms, bringing her away.

One of the guards saw the blood. ‘Are you alright, Dr. Bloom?’

‘Fine,’ she snapped.

She licked it away.

In her car she drove, and she felt like she had just drank several liters of Redbull. Her heart raced and she felt extremely warm. She kept running her tongue over the cut inside her mouth. Her stomach kept flipping out of excitement. She didn’t know what Hannibal had told her, but she wanted to find out so very badly.

Tonight, she thought.

A big tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffed and swallowed. Hannibal Lecter would be the death of her. One day, it would happen again. One day he would hold her so very close, sweating, buried deep inside her, moving within her, breathing loudly next to her ear as she panted whenever their bodies met. One day he would touch her skin again, comparing her to various types of fabrics. One day they would do anything and everything.

She could hear her heart drumming in her ears.

Alana Bloom was afraid. But the fear translated as good.

Alana Bloom was losing her mind, and at the same time feeling sane and well.

She pressed play on her radio, listening to a Zaz album.

_‘Si j’en ai perdu la tête, j’tai aimé et même pire...’_

She didn’t know what would happen. She didn’t know why she was becoming like this. She didn’t know why she felt the extreme urge to leave now, tonight, to wait for Hannibal in Vilnius.

_‘À ce métro remplit, des vertiges de la vie...À la prochaine station...Petit européen...’_

If she left, if she walked away telling no one, what would happen? What would she say to Will Graham? There was nothing here for her. There was nothing left if they walked away from all of it.

_‘Met ta main, descend la en dessous de mon coeur...’_

It would leave them something. Something stronger than the rest of the world.

_**Each other.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it ends, my dears :)  
> I hope you enjoyed this fanfiction. I LOVED writing every single one of them. Thank you to all the people for reading, leaving kudos and commenting, and a special thanks to the people who supported me on tumblr :D Also, an extra special thank you to 823freckles for being an amazing writer and writing these prompts with me. I've put all of the prompts on tumblr (my chapter titles are the prompt names).  
> Also, feel free to use them if you want, I'm willing to share as long as you give me credit mwahahahahaha.  
> I CANNOT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS  
> GAWD  
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU  
> Also, I'm considering writing more stuff (especially hannibloom).  
> Tell me what you think in the comments!  
> (also I hope you like the cover so yeah)  
> xxxx  
> charlotteof_denmark  
> PS: the song she listens to at the end is called 'Éblouie par la nuit' by Zaz. It's my favorite song <3


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